


The Usual Suspects

by airedis



Category: SHINee
Genre: Friendship, M/M, boys fighting and falling in love, please read inside for the warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 63,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airedis/pseuds/airedis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were a ragtag group of misfits and dreamers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> mild to moderate (mis)use of cursing and commas, violence, non graphic mentions of self harm and abuse
> 
> written for shineebigbang. whew. i was going to write something else and then view came out and. this....happened.  
> it was like an unstoppable force, honestly.
> 
> *update*: illustrations added! (´;ω;｀)  
> all illustrations can be found [here](http://asongofaceanddanger.tumblr.com/post/129299862740/asongofaceanddanger-sbb-illustrations-part-1) and [here](http://asongofaceanddanger.tumblr.com/post/129299794840/asongofaceanddanger-sbb-illustrations-part-2) and were done by the absolutely wonderful and lovely franziska98fs. (they can also be found on my lj [here](http://airedis.livejournal.com/8911.html) too!) i cannot even begin to thank you for liking my story and putting so much time and work into doing so many of these ｡：ﾟ(｡ﾉω＼｡)ﾟ･｡

It was a loud crash that woke him up. He noticed two things in quick succession: it was too fucking bright, and his head was going to explode in approximately ten seconds. Jonghyun groaned and pulled the blanket over his head, heat be damned; his head was pounding and if he had to move or even breathe in the next hour he was going to empty the contents of his tortured stomach all over his mattress.  
  
He could hear some muffled voices and shuffling from beyond the wall. The clock on the bedside table ticked loudly as Jonghyun’s stomach rolled and he panted, mouth open, as he buried his face in the musty pillow. It was hot and uncomfortable and honestly the blanket did nothing to block any of the sound, but Jonghyun felt sapped of energy as he nosed against the pillow, trying to find a cool patch.  
  
Jonghyun could feel the sweat beading against his forehead, the back of his neck, the small of his back. He could feel his clothes sticking to his body and regretted not stripping down before he’d collapsed in bed the night before – or before one of his friends had dumped him there. He couldn’t really remember.  
  
The voices from the kitchen grew louder and then there was a sharp clattering.  
  
“Shut up!” Jonghyun’s voice ripped itself from his dry throat. Immediately his head throbbed with the noise and he moaned pathetically.  
  
There was a peal of careless laughter and a melodic “Jonghyun’s awake~” floated to his ears.  
  
Jonghyun’s throat was screaming for water and he was next to certain that he’d suffocate underneath the blanket in an absurdly hot haze of his own rancid breath.  
  
A tinny din followed by yet another shattering sound is what finally spurred Jonghyun to rouse from his unpleasant cocoon. Shattering meant Taemin – if that voice he’d heard earlier was any indication – which also meant that he’d be jumped on if he didn’t show his face soon. With any luck, that was Minho adding to the racket and making food in the kitchen.  
  
Steeling his resolve, his stomach gave a threatening lurch one last time before Jonghyun groaned into his pillow and pushed himself up. A wave of coolness hit his face as the blanket slipped off his head but in an instant it was replaced with the muggy air of the rest of the room.  _The rest of the world, more like_ , Jonghyun thought. His hair flopped into his face, prickly and itchy against his irritated eyes, and with a final bang from the kitchen, Jonghyun rolled out of bed. It was too hot for this shit.  
  
The carpet was rough against his feet as he dragged them over the floor. He could practically feel the dirt and dust and who knows what else mixing into some disgusting film on the bottom of his feet but he blearily trudged on, unbothered. Honestly, he'd needed to vacuum for way too long but that was not happening anytime in the foreseeable future. Kibum had pressed him to do it for the longest time before Jonghyun had admitted he didn't even own a vacuum. The other boy had shot him a disgusted look and had never taken his shoes off inside since.  
  
There were a few metallic clinks and Jonghyun could hear something sizzling pleasantly. He smelled bacon. That was always a good sign. Suddenly the toaster gave a loud beep and Jonghyun tripped over his own feet in surprise, stumbling and bumping into the wall.  
  
“Jonghyun?”  
  
Jonghyun gave a feeble whimper in response and shuffled into the kitchen. The linoleum felt like it was sticking to his feet but it was blissfully cool in contrast to the carpet. He briefly contemplated lying down on the floor right then and there before he remembered it had probably never been washed since its installation and discarded the idea. The kitchen table, however, looked relatively clean and was significantly less embarrassing.  
  
Collapsing into a chair, Jonghyun immediately pressed his heated forehead onto the cool tabletop.  
  
“I’m never drinking again,” he groaned into the wood.  
  
“That’s what you said last week,” Taemin quipped, voice coming from where his head was stuck somewhere inside the refrigerator.  
  
“Yeah, well I mean it this time.”  
  
“You said that last week too,” Minho said from the stove.  
  
Jonghyun leveled his back with a decidedly unamused look as Minho cracked another egg into his pan.  
  
Taemin pulled his head out of the fridge and with him came a shiny red apple. Jonghyun wasn’t entirely sure where that came from and figured it must have been something that Minho had bought but one could never be too sure around there.  
  
Taemin had the audacity to be wearing jeans even while Jonghyun was sweating out half his body weight through his armpits, and the kid even still had his socks on. Jonghyun’s feet burned at the idea and he turned away from Taemin, half convinced that just looking at how much heat Taemin was retaining was raising his own body temperature.  
  
Minho on the other hand was dressed the same as Jonghyun, but just standing in front of a working stove had to be sucking any semblance of cold air out of the kitchen. The window was open, for all the good it was doing, and Jonghyun watched some phantom breeze ruffle Minho’s bangs as he flipped eggs.  
  
“What time did you guys get back last night?” Taemin asked, flopping into a chair across from Jonghyun.  
  
Taemin looked at Jonghyun and the older boy shrugged, having no clue.  
  
After a beat of silence, Minho answered with, “not too long after you left.”  
  
He started telling Taemin about how they’d left Kibum’s place, but Jonghyun’s attention shifted to the food Minho was piling on plates. Despite itself, his stomach rumbled loudly. Jonghyun scowled when Minho paused his recollection of the previous night to chuckle.  
  
Finally, finally, Minho turned around to bring the plates to the table. It turned into a free-for-all, as it always did, the second the plates touched down, and Minho’s fingers had hardly left the worn glass rim when Jonghyun began diving in. He ignored everything and went straight for the bacon, piling it onto his plate by the handful.  
  
Minho had made way too much food, as was usually the case the morning after a night of drinking, but since they almost always had company, nothing ever went to waste. (Not to mention that Minho could probably eat about four whole plates on his own anyway.) Taemin was scraping everything on his plate onto a piece of toast in some sort of strange semblance of a breakfast sandwich; Jonghyun half-noticed that Minho had – somehow, impossibly – already polished off half his plate, but Jonghyun was more focused on what was in front of him.  
  
He moaned obscenely as he stuffed about three pieces of bacon into his mouth at once. Bacon was the ultimate cure for hangovers (and Minho knew how to do it right).  
  
“Oh, you are a godsend, Choi,” Jonghyun groaned, voice gravelly and appreciative. He was rewarded with a smack on the back of the head.  
  
“Just shut up and eat your food.”  
  
But Jonghyun could hear the smile in his voice and he grinned before following Taemin’s example and piling some eggs onto a piece of toast.  
  
“Breakfast” was a quick affair and it wasn’t until Jonghyun had cleared his plate several times over that he realized how thirsty he was. His throat felt raw and he needed something to drink before his whole body dehydrated and he crumbled into dust.  
  
“Water,” he whined in Minho’s direction. Taemin was a lost cause, after having dumped his plate in the sink and having gone into the other room to crank up the volume on the television like the little brat he was.  
  
Minho obligingly got up from the table. Jonghyun was grateful: it felt like the strength had been sapped from his body. He watched as Minho grabbed a large glass from the cupboard and filled it to the brim.  
  
Jonghyun could have sobbed when his fingers closed around it.  
  
“I heard glass earlier. What was that about?” Jonghyun asked after he had consumed approximately a pool’s worth of water.  
  
“Taemin broke two more mugs.”  
  
He placed the glass heavily on the table and sighed before straightening back up. “I hope you’re planning on paying for those!” Jonghyun shouted in the direction  
of the living room.  
  
Suspicious silence followed by a quiet snort was his response.  
  
“Don’t count on it, hyung,” Minho said, patting Jonghyun’s shoulder before clearing the table.  
  
-  
  
Taemin whooped loudly and Jinki’s fist connected with the side of some poor and unfortunate soul’s face. The sucker went down and was out for the count in three seconds flat. After damn near ten years Jonghyun figured that people would have realized how pointless it was to challenge them for the top spot – these kids weren’t even out-of-towners – but hey, he wasn’t complaining.  
  
Kibum was lazily watching from his position outside the fray as usual, perched on top of a bike rail like it was some sort of jungle gym. Jonghyun kept half an eye out for him; Kibum could take care of himself when he needed to, but sometimes the other boy got cocky and content and Jonghyun wasn’t risking someone coming up behind Kibum without him noticing again. Old habits die hard.  
  
A loud grunt drew his attention to the side, away from the boy in front of him trying to crawl away shamefully, nursing a broken rib and a bruised ego. Jonghyun didn’t have to worry about him anymore. He turned in time to see Minho’s leg fly out and catch this big guy in the stomach. Minho in action was a thing of beauty. He was the only one out of them who had done sports and it showed – his stamina was better than any of theirs, followed idly by Taemin, and his years of training came with an awareness of every inch of his body and what it could do.  
  
And he used it to his full advantage.  
  
He didn’t just have the height; he had the speed and the power to back it up ten times over. Jonghyun may have been the best out of them, the most feared, (infamous, if you will), but Minho – Minho was the most impressive. The way he looked when he walked into a room alone was enough to make some of their opponents start trembling in their roughed up kicks. Maybe it was because of his powerful silhouette that most people thought Minho was the leader at first glance.  
There was something special about all of them but Jonghyun secretly – somewhere deep in the back of his mind – believed that Minho was the most striking. (But you’d have to kill him before he’d admit it.) He didn’t have the crackling restlessness of Jonghyun or the frightening calm of Jinki. He wasn’t as brash and provocative as Kibum or even as markedly arresting as Taemin. Minho was unassumingly compelling and Jonghyun never quite got over it just as much as every single person who ever fought the boy.  
  
Needless to say, Minho’s kick to the gut knocked the kid out and left him breathless. Jonghyun felt something seize his own chest and he coughed, chalked it up to the dry heat pervading their sleepy town.  
  
“Hey!” Kibum called from the bike rail. “Fight better you losers, I’m bored over here!”  
  
Jonghyun grinned and looked around. Seven or eight guys had “covertly” followed them from the convenience store and half way down the back road to the mall until Taemin finally got tired of ignoring them and turned around.  
  
“You guys gonna fucking do something already?”  
  
They had looked surprised before one of them stepped in front of the others and started some bullshit speech about how they were going to be the ones to take over the town. He got about half way through his second sentence before Jonghyun took a crack at his nose.  
  
They weren’t really very good. It was clear from the get-go that these other guys were a whole lot of talk and not much else. Really, Jonghyun had been bored before they’d even started and they’d felled most of them easily in just a few minutes. For whatever worthless reason, the remaining two guys from the other gang, although clearly outnumbered and overpowered, refused to retreat. Honestly, they were all just fucking around by that point.  
  
Taemin jumped on one guy’s back and started hollering, quite obviously freaking the other guy out. A loud laugh erupted from Jonghyun’s throat and he sauntered over to take a seat next to Kibum. He’d let the kids have their fun.  
  
“Isn’t this just riveting,” Kibum drawled, staring out at the pathetic remnants of their “fight”.  
  
Taemin was still on the guy’s back and the guy seemed to be panicking that he couldn’t get the boy off. He was spinning around in circles and stumbling all over the place as Taemin laughed. It was nice to see him having fun with it. Taemin was a small kind of guy, stick thin and bony (but packing a little bit of muscle lately, if Jonghyun had anything to do with it). He got picked out first in their lineup because anyone who didn’t know him well enough thought he was weak. He showed them pretty quickly that wasn’t the case, but he always had something someone needed him to prove.  
  
“Absolutely,” Jonghyun replied. He leaned back against the rail and cracked his neck.  
  
Jinki and Minho looked to be, for all intents and purposes, having a completely normal conversation – if one ignored the boy cowering at their feet. They weren’t doing much, just prodding him with their shoes if he made any move to get up. They didn’t have to do anything more, their fists had already done all the talking.  
  
“Where’s all the hotshots?” Jonghyun groused after a minute of silence. “I’m so damn bored.”  
  
“They probably heard about every other gang getting their sorry asses whooped.” Kibum pulled at the collar of his shirt, pushing the loose material back over his collar bones. “It’s so slow this summer.”  
  
“I’m gonna start looking for them pretty soon.”  
  
“Don’t you dare, Kim Jonghyun.”  
  
Jonghyun just flapped a hand at him.  
  
The summer was just winding up. People were out for break, children filling up the parks, adults filling up the benches, and the air was sweltering in the heated bubble of their town. The days were long and time stretched and stretched itself tight and thin to accommodate them. Not that it mattered much to any of them – Jinki was the only one still in school anymore.  
  
“You’re just worried you’re gonna break a nail or something.”  
  
Kibum could have said “fuck you”, he could have scoffed and ignored it but instead Jonghyun got a sharp slap to the back of the head.  
  
“Shit, Kibum.” The slap smarted, stinging against the tender skin at the base of his head. “That fucking hurts.”  
  
Kibum wasn’t physical very often, he preferred to keep his hands clean and fight smarter than the rest of them. But when he was, it was just as acidic as the biting tone of his voice could be. Some fucking sharp fingers that kid had.  
  
Kibum just cocked an eyebrow at him and turned back towards the street.  
  
The guy Taemin had been terrorizing finally gave up and tripped over his own feet, crashing down to the ground, sprawled out like a ragdoll. Taemin had jumped off his back as the other guy lost balance, landing on his feet like a cat. Once the guy had pushed himself up, he shot a frightened glance at Taemin and booked it out of there.  
  
His friend, still on the ground between Jinki and Minho, looked up at the two of them, only to find them looking down at him with expectant expressions. Jinki tipped his head to the side and the kid scrambled to his feet and shot off after his friend. The other guys who had been knocked out were still on the ground, silent as ever, and Jonghyun figured they were either out cold or playing it smart and acting like they were until Jonghyun’s gang left.  
  
Heaving a big sigh, Jonghyun pushed himself off the rail and called out, “come on guys! Let’s blow this pop stand.”  
  
He heard Kibum snort behind him just as Taemin taunted, “really? That’s what you’re going with?”  
  
Jonghyun hooked an arm around Taemin’s neck and dragged him close, digging his knuckles roughly into the younger boy’s skull.  
  
“Can it, wild child.”  
  
It was by unanimous and unspoken agreement that they continued along the back road and to the mall. Jonghyun couldn’t help but notice – really he couldn’t – that Minho kept an arm amicably around Jinki’s shoulder the whole way there. He couldn’t help but notice because even though Jinki and Minho walked the slowest of the five of them, they were walking in front. And so Jonghyun could see them pretty well even as he bumped shoulders with Kibum and him and Taemin play-shoved each other around a bit. Jonghyun wasn’t bothered by it or anything. It was just something he noticed.  
  
They decided to stop by the food court and they each went somewhere different before grabbing a table and pooling all their food in the middle, buffet style. Jonghyun snagged some chow mein, tossing the bell peppers onto Minho’s plate because Jonghyun hated bell peppers but, conveniently, Minho loved them. Minho grinned in thanks and Jonghyun tossed another piece onto his plate slightly erratically.  
  
Taemin was half way through their collective pile of fries before Kibum caught him and pulled the bag his way instead. The kid didn’t look it but he could eat like a freaking horse. They all did really; they had the biggest appetites of anyone Jonghyun had ever met and no matter how much food they bought, they’d clear it all, no problem.  
  
Jinki was lost in his own world, head practically buried in the plastic bag his food was contained in, and Jonghyun weighed the pros and cons of attempting to sneak some. If his hand got anywhere in the vicinity, it was possible he’d lose it before he even touched anything. Jinki was in one of those ravenous moods.  
Jonghyun picked at his food a little, something sitting heavy on his mind. He couldn’t put his finger on it, couldn’t quite place what had been bothering him for the last few days. A slice of pizza dropped onto his plate, startling him out of his thoughts. He looked over and met Minho’s eyes. Minho, cheeks puffed full of food like a chipmunk and eyes wide and bright as always, nodded his head towards the pizza.  
  
Jonghyun’s brow furrowed before he gave a small smile and dug in.  
  
Now, they’d been getting stares since the minute they stepped in through the doors (Minho was a giant, Jonghyun had bright-ass hair, and Kibum was just flashy in his own right) but those were more-so curious glances. It was more obvious when they were walking around – loitering really – because those glances were disapproving and slightly distrustful and, really, more than a bit snobby.  
  
But now that they were out in the open, laughing and fooling around and just generally existing among the general public, that was when the stares got bolder. They got stares because, even though they weren’t all that worse for wear, they were a little scuffed up and it was clear they’d been fighting. So people avoided them even though they weren’t really doing anything wrong. They were just a little louder than what was socially acceptable.  
  
And people probably just freaked out because, let’s face it, they weren’t exactly known for their sparkling reputation.  
  
They passed the empty children’s play area, a squishy foam haven of oversized objects that used to be their main mall hangout back when they were all in high school. They’d ruled it back then, taken over the area with their slouching and foul language and leers.  
  
But they weren’t kids anymore, so they walked by it and headed towards some clothing store. They didn’t buy things too often – no mall rats ever did – but they walked in and looked around because they were bored, they had time to kill and, most importantly, they had nothing better to do.  
  
Kibum headed towards the racks, dragging along a clearly unenthusiastic Jinki. Kibum was the most concerned with his appearance (and secretly Jonghyun followed at a somewhat distant second) and he surveyed the clothing with a critical eye. Jonghyun strolled in between some displays, fingertips brushing along the hems of shirts. His hands weren’t really dirty and he wasn’t totally preoccupied with the idea of messing anything up but a young female sales associate was giving him a concerned look.  
  
Jonghyun walked around a mannequin, fingering the fabric of the shirt softly, and gave her a sexy little smirk. Her eyes widened and she looked away, face aflame as she pretended to busy herself with stocking jeans on a shelf. Nice.  
  
And then Jonghyun fell into shadow and felt a warm, firm body pressed close behind him.  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“Jesus, Minho,” Jonghyun huffed, pushing a little at the taller boy’s chest. “Ever heard of personal space?”  
  
“What’s that?” Minho gave a slightly wicked grin. Jonghyun couldn’t help but grin back, even as he punched Minho in the arm.  
  
He looked around; Jinki and Kibum were buried in the clothes somewhere off on the other side of the store and Taemin had run off somewhere as he was wont to do. Jonghyun noticed the girl still staring in their direction, trying to hide it, pretend like she wasn’t watching them with a little more interest.  
  
“Hey, c’mere,” Jonghyun whispered excitedly, tugging Minho forward and down.  
  
“Wha -?”  
  
“C’mere, c’mere,” Jonghyun said again as he draped his arms over Minho’s shoulders lazily. Minho, thrown off balance, steadied himself with large hands on Jonghyun’s hips. Jonghyun was struck with the odd idea that Minho’s fingers could probably wrap all the way around his waist and he tossed his head, flipping his bangs out of his face.  
  
“What’re you doing?” Minho whispered conspiratorially, forehead knocking against Jonghyun’s lightly as his lips pushed up in an amused smile.  
  
“Fuckin’ with the sales chick over there,” Jonghyun said, dragging a hand up into Minho’s hair.  
  
“Oh you are, are you?” Minho’s hands shifted, arms wrapping a smidge tighter around Jonghyun.  
  
“Yep. Wanna see if she freaks out.” Jonghyun stepped closer.  
  
“Yeah? How’s that working out?” Minho nuzzled his forehead against Jonghyun’s once more before Jonghyun stepped back.  
  
The sales girl’s face was burning, her mouth agape as she openly stared. From her point of view of Minho’s back, that certainly must have looked like something. Jonghyun caught her eye, raised an eyebrow with a self-satisfied smirk, and she snapped her jaw back up, turned away sharply. She was embarrassed. How cute.  
  
“Pretty good,” Jonghyun said, appeased. He didn’t need to say anything though because Minho had turned his head to see for himself, and Jonghyun got a good view of his sharp jaw before Minho’s soft chuckles drew him back.  
  
“Come on,” he said, throwing an arm over Jonghyun’s shoulders. “Let’s go see if we can find Taemin.”  
  
They didn’t. They found Kibum and Jinki in the changing rooms and Kibum declared everything here was cheap and the cut of everything was terrible. Taemin found them, popping up beside them smoothly just as they were walking past the security alarm gates. He did that a lot, disappearing off somewhere, both in his own head and in person. But he always came back.  
  
-  
  
They had a tent just under the freeway entrance. They’d put it up shortly after they met, in a dirty, abandoned area behind a fence. Their meeting was rough, just like their little hideout, but it was a comfort, as all these things ended up becoming. Jonghyun had been hiding, trying to get away and Minho had suddenly been there, in Jonghyun’s space, and he’d never left since.  
  
It used to be that they had to fight to keep people away but now no one came anywhere near it if they could help it. It was their place and no one else’s. Occasionally, the five of them met there, but none of them were there unless Jonghyun and Minho were there. It wasn’t even the gang’s place, just theirs.  
It wasn’t much, just a couple weather beaten tarps and some dusty blankets. But it was the first place they’d ever made theirs and it had been their haven throughout the years, even after Jonghyun moved out of his parent’s place and Minho moved in with him.  
  
They hadn’t been the first to meet – that was Jonghyun and Jinki – and they hadn’t even really hit it off right away either (that was Jonghyun and Kibum). But there was something electric there, and Jonghyun couldn’t let that go even if he’d wanted to. And of course he hadn’t. So Jonghyun had pulled a very reluctant Minho out to the edge of town into this grungy litter-hole of an area and showed him the paradise left behind.  
  
Minho had not been impressed. But Jonghyun had convinced him soon enough and they’d made their place. Minho had been the first – the only – person Jonghyun had ever shown that place to. And for a long time after they’d formed their mismatched little puzzle of a gang, Minho was the only person who could ever find Jonghyun because he was the only person who knew where to look.  
  
Sometimes when people drove by it they could see the two boys nestled underneath the blanket, laughing and shoving at each other, emanating none of the dangerous, wild energy that they usually gave off. They just looked like normal teenage boys.  
  
-  
  
They made a run to the convenience store, aptly located just a block away. It was late afternoon and probably too early by most people’s standards, but they’d deemed it the perfect time to start drinking. Hell, according to Jinki, it was never too early (so they were actually running a little late by his clock).  
  
Minho cruised through the aisles aimlessly as Taemin sped past with the cart, locked on target to the back wall where all the refrigerated cases containing the elixir of life were kept. Jinki was already waiting there impatiently, arms full of cans. Taemin screeched to a halt and Jinki dumped the cans in, turning back to grab more. Jonghyun bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet, carefully depositing the bottles he’d had spread between his fingers.  
  
He was doing it again, drinking – exactly what he’d said he was going to stop. But it was true this time; he wouldn’t get drunk and wake up with a brain melting hangover. He had it all planned out: stop drinking before Kibum and he’d be fine. (It was when he tried to match Jinki that he ended up shitfaced. That man could drink a whole ship under the table.)  
  
But since they were starting so early it was a casual kind of thing. Just hang out, have a few drinks, maybe kill a few zombies. Minho had gotten a new game and Jonghyun was convinced that no new game could be fully appreciated in their place without being experienced whilst just a little bit tipsy.  
  
Taemin pushed his bangs back off his forehead, hair slipping forward again, parted in the middle. “Hyung, don’t you think that’s enough?”  
  
Jinki had loaded the cart pretty well and even Jonghyun had to admit that it was bordering on just a bit excessive. But only just a bit.  
  
Jinki made a face at him. “Whatever we don’t drink tonight I’ll put in Jonghyun’s fridge.” He thought for a moment. “Or bring it back with me.”  
  
“Whatever,” Jonghyun said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’re paying anyway.”  
  
Kibum appeared in front of Jonghyun right as he turned.  
  
“Hey, buy me this,” he said, shoving a can into Jonghyun’s hands.  
  
Jonghyun turned it around in his hands so he could get to the label. Iced coffee. “Where the hell’s your money?”  
  
“Left my wallet at home today.” Kibum’s head tipped back.  
  
“Okay,” Jonghyun conceded and turned towards the register. “But don’t drink this tonight.”  
  
He bought the drink and handed it off to Kibum, the two of them waiting by the doors. Jinki and Taemin loaded everything onto the conveyor belt and Jonghyun had to admit, it was a shitload of booze. But his humble abode was not complete without at least three cases of something or other lying around. The ground was lonely without them. It was just the way of things.  
  
Minho ambled up slowly behind them, a couple bags of chips dangling from one hand. Jonghyun caught his eye and nodded towards the bags. The other boy cocked an eyebrow, lips pushing out in some weird pursed pout. Jonghyun’s eyes dropped into a squint and he nodded quickly, nose wrinkling. Minho’s face smoothed out and Jonghyun huffed internally. Anything to get him to stop making that dumb face.  
  
They left the store, arms loaded with heavy bags. Jinki started whistling a familiar tune and Taemin mumbled the song underneath his breath as Kibum looked on with fond eyes that he showed only when they were all alone.  
  
As Jonghyun slipped the key into the weather-beaten lock, he knew he wouldn’t be drinking hard. He joked about it a lot, they all did, but they actually weren’t ones to get wasted all that often. Today was just a day to drink with friends and have a good time; they could let loose when they were all gathered on the couches, kicking back watching some terrible movie or chatting or, hell, Jonghyun really thought they could be talking about botany and he’d enjoy every second of it.  
  
He dumped his bags on the low table in front of the TV and went to take a piss. When he came back, there was an assortment of bottles and cans spread out on the table, bags of chips open and waiting, and the television droning on as background noise. Taemin had taken up half of one couch, as was his M.O., and Minho was next to him, arms spread out over the back. What the fuck, he was a giant noodle.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
Jonghyun blinked. “What.”  
  
“Did you just call me a noodle?” Minho voice was incredulous.  
  
“Did I?” Jonghyun’s face screwed itself up before it smoothed out and he shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, it’s true.”  
  
Minho snagged Jonghyun’s arm as he was walking past and dragged him down. Jonghyun stumbled onto Minho’s lap, arms suddenly trapped by one of Minho’s own massive, noodle-y arms. He struggled, wiggling and trying to get free, as Minho’s fist descended onto his head in an enthusiastic noogie.  
  
“Oh, hey!” Jonghyun shouted. “Not the hair, man – come on!”  
  
Minho’s fingers spread themselves out, palm pushing into the crown of Jonghyun’s head to further displace his hair. Jonghyun gripped at Minho’s forearm, feeling like he was fighting against a boulder. He couldn’t move him an inch.  
  
“If you two lovebirds would cut it out,” came Kibum’s drawling voice. “We could actually start watching this movie.”  
  
“Start without us,” Minho said happily, pushing Jonghyun’s hair into a stunning imitation of a tumbleweed.  
  
“Uh uh,” Taemin tutted. “You guys are the only ones that can get that VCR to work.”  
  
Minho’s hand stilled and Jonghyun slipped out from under his arm. “What? Still?” Taemin nodded, handing Jonghyun the VHS.  
  
He walked over to the VCR that was probably older than all of them combined and kneeled down, fiddling with it. “I thought I taught Jinki how to use it.”  
  
“Yeah, but that thing hates me more than it hates Taemin.”  
  
“Huh.” Jonghyun pressed play and the pathetic thing whirred to life.  
  
If anyone ever asked them why they kept watching tapes on a battered VCR, they’d look around at each other with puzzled looks and come to the resounding conclusion of “no clue”. It’s what they had and, yeah, they could bring out one of their laptops or hook it up to the TV and watch a DVD that way but this was just the way they did things and it suited them just fine.  
  
It didn’t matter much anyway, because they always wound up picking some B-movie and they inevitably ended up talking over it.  
  
Jonghyun settled down in between Jinki and Kibum, skin already soaking up their body heat from the proximity. There were two small fans pointed towards the couches but the room had been cursed to exist without a ceiling fan and was, of course, slowly turning into the sixth circle of hell.  
  
“Scooch over,” Jonghyun whispered, nudging Kibum’s leg with his knee.  
  
Kibum retaliated by laying his legs across Jonghyun’s lap. But just as soon as he’d pushed Kibum’s legs away, they were replaced by Jinki’s. Betrayed, Jonghyun turned to him with the best kicked-puppy-left-out-in-the-rain look he could manage. Jinki’s eyes turned into crescents and Jonghyun’s heart dropped. Then Kibum’s legs came up to rest on top of Jinki’s, and Jonghyun’s heart dropped even further.  
  
He resigned himself to thinking cool thoughts and grabbed a bottle of beer to press to his face.  
  
Halfway into the movie and finished with his second beer, Jonghyun absently grabbed a bottle from the table. His eyes drifted down to the label and -  
  
“What the fuck is this?” Jonghyun laughed, holding up the fruity liquor bottle.  
  
All eyes turned to him and Jonghyun gestured at the bottle vigorously. Jinki cracked a smile.  
  
“Oops. Must have accidentally let that one in there.”  
  
Jonghyun didn’t miss the wink that Minho and Jinki shared at his expense. He sighed down at the bottle like he was doing the rest of them a service by taking one for the team and drinking it anyway. But it was still hard to hide his smile as he twisted the cap off.  
  
(Jonghyun would make fun of fruity drinks until he was blue in the face but, cross his heart, they were his favorite kind.)  
  
Some hours later, empty cans and bottles littered the table and the muted sound of digitized gunshots played staccato through the room. Taemin and Kibum had left, Minho had headed to bed, and Jinki and Jonghyun were all that remained. Jonghyun had finally pulled out Minho’s new game and he and Jinki were coexisting peacefully in their mutual destruction of zombies.  
  
They had been sitting in comfortable silence, punctuated only by grunts of frustration and quiet exclamations of happiness, interspersed with the occasional curse.  
Jinki’s shoulder bumped against Jonghyun’s.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Jonghyun hummed and jammed his thumbs against the buttons of his controller.  
  
“Jonghyun.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What are you going to do after all of this?”  
  
Jonghyun paused, fingers slipping over the buttons briefly. “After all what?”  
  
“After the gang.”  
  
The controller hit the floor with a loud clatter. Jonghyun’s fingers were shaking. “What the hell are you talking about?” He asked in trepidation. “The gang is –”  
  
“I know you think this is forever,” Jinki interrupted calmly, fingers skipping over his controller like he was talking about the weather instead of this. “But we can’t all just keep doing this forever.”  
  
Jonghyun’s blood ran cold in his veins.  
  
“I know this, you know this, the others know this. You need to have a backup plan.”  
  
“So – what?” Jonghyun turned to him angrily but Jinki continued staring ahead seriously, face set in hard lines. “You think this is all just gonna fall to shit? You think I’m just living in some fantasy world and you’re all going to magically grow up and live perfect lives while I’m stuck in this “little gang thing”?”  
  
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about, Jonghyun.”  
  
“Enlighten me, then.” His voice was rough, scraping through his vocal cords like gravel.  
  
“You know you can’t do this forever,” Jinki said softly, turning to him finally. “Whether you want to or not, you have to get a job sometime. We all do. We can’t just stay exactly like this forever.”  
  
Jinki stared at him with those sympathetic, sad eyes and Jonghyun looked away. “We can’t just keep pretending we’re invincible.”  
  
Jonghyun was silent, mind an uncomfortable dull roar as he tried to find his vantage point. He distantly remembered the discarded controller on the ground and picked it up, hands running over the scuffed plastic almost unfamiliarly. His character had died a few times over, respawned in an area too far away, but it didn’t matter; he stared at the screen with glazed eyes, unmoving.  
  
“Once upon a time, I thought I was going to drop out of high school and just make music,” Jonghyun whispered, staring at the wall. “Then I met you guys and I actually felt like I was worth something.”  
  
“Jonghyun –”  
  
“You know I’m not fit for school. It’s great that you’re still doing it,” Jonghyun said emphatically, grabbing Jinki’s hand. “But I don’t have the head for it. I can’t go back and do that again.”  
  
“You could think about getting a job,” Jinki said quietly. “It doesn’t even have to be now. Just think about it. Make a plan so that one day you’re not out here all alone without money or any of us around.”  
  
“There’s nothing out there for me,” Jonghyun said, smile coming shakily onto his face alongside the tears prickling behind his eyes.  
  
“I can’t read about you someday, Jonghyun.” Jinki’s composure finally broke. “I can’t read that you died alone in your apartment or something.” His voice caught in his throat and he swallowed with difficulty. “I don’t want everyone out there living except for you.”  
  
“I can’t –”  
  
“Yes you can,” he replied forcefully. “You’re fucking smart, Jonghyun, even if you don’t think you are. You don’t have to go back to school, you don’t even have to get a job right away. Just do something and show me that you care about yourself, and not just us.” Jonghyun was holding onto Jinki’s hand like a lifeline.  
  
“I do –” Jonghyun broke off.  
  
“Please, Jonghyun.” There was a moment of tense, stressed silence.  
  
“The gang is all I have,” Jonghyun whispered brokenly.  
  
And then he broke like a dam, tears spilling over his cheeks in salty, distressed rivers. He’d known this for a long time, for too many years, for too many uncomfortable nights. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, shoved it back in a dark and dusty, locked corner of his head to rot, in fact. Jonghyun felt Jinki squeeze his hand comfortingly and he realized, like a mind out of body experience, that he had to be quiet or Minho would wake up. (And that was the last thing he wanted.)  
  
Still, his chest heaved in repressed sobs and he kept crying, feeling like he wouldn’t be able to stop until he was wrung completely dry.  
  
“You shouldn’t have drank even as little as you did tonight,” Jinki said kindly, running a soothing hand down his back. “It always makes you even more of a crybaby than usual.”  
  
Jonghyun hiccupped, a watery laugh bubbling up his throat, and buried his face in Jinki’s shoulder in retaliation.  
  
Jinki let him cry there, soaking his shirt in salty, hot tears, until the shaking subsided and his throat didn’t feel closed up anymore. He felt drained, muscles loose and wobbly underneath his skin. There was a headache pounding behind his skull and Jonghyun was sure his face was a blotchy red mess. But – he still had Jinki there.  
  
It would work out somehow (even if he didn’t want to think about it still).  
  
Jonghyun must have cried approximately his body weight by the time the tears finally stopped, his throat dry and nose still runny. His face felt sticky, all the dried tears leaving crusted tracks in their path, and he probably looked like he'd been dipped in hot oil for how bright and red his face must have been. He resolved not to look in the mirror for a few hours (though, unfortunately, he couldn't spare Jinki from having to see his face).  
  
“Feeling better now?” Jinki asked quietly, grabbing a napkin from the table and gently wiping Jonghyun's face.  
  
Jonghyun nodded, feeling like a child.  
  
“I didn't mean for the conversation to end up like that,” he continued, voice a soft mist.  
  
Jonghyun's eyes locked on his face but Jinki wouldn't look at him.  
  
“It's okay,” he said, giving up. Instead, he leaned into the taller boy, body feeling too heavy to keep himself upright on his own anymore.  
  
Jinki held him, a soft jingle of music playing from the idle game screen. Jonghyun tucked his face into Jinki's neck, the fabric muggy and warm from his tears, but he didn't care. Eventually Jinki pulled away gently and Jonghyun tipped over against the arm of the couch. A click from behind him, and then the room plunged into darkness, only the muted blue glow from the television illuminating the room. And then that was gone too a moment later as Jinki switched it off. There was a minute of silence, filled only by the whisper of clothing, as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, then Jinki was carefully making his way back over to the couch.  
Jonghyun felt Jinki's hand on his arm, could barely make out the shape of his silhouette, before he was tugged upright. Jinki climbed onto the couch and enveloped Jonghyun in his arms once more, guiding him to lay back down, safely in his arms, the two of them pillowed together. Jonghyun relaxed, feeling Jinki's even breathing against his neck, the minuscule push of his chest against Jonghyun's back as he breathed in, out, in, and Jonghyun's breathing slowly followed.  
  
“Love's a weird thing.”  
  
 _What?_  
  
Jonghyun's breath hitched before evening out once more.  
  
“Don't you think?”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Jonghyun asked in trepidation.  
  
A light bulb seemed to go off in Jinki's head and Jonghyun could almost see the light casting on the far wall.  
  
“Oh – no, Jonghyun. I don't – I mean I do love you, but not like that.” Jinki was tense behind him and the wobble in his voice made Jonghyun smile.  
  
“Well I wasn't hoping!” He said in his loudest whisper. He was happy to hear Jinki say that; the other boy kept a lot of feelings to himself sometimes and Jonghyun liked being let in.  
  
“But...” Jinki trailed off. Jonghyun silently urged him to continue, rubbing his thumb over the back of the hand Jinki had tossed over his stomach.  
  
“Do you think it's wrong to like a friend?” He asked finally.  
  
Jonghyun's eyes had slipped closed but he raised an eyebrow at that.  
  
“No?” He thought for a moment. “Why would it? Love usually comes from friendship anyway.”  
  
Jonghyun's mind whirred into sleepy action, clanking around clumsily as it tried to piece scattered thoughts together. Loving a friend was sometimes the best thing. It could be terrible – if they didn't love you back, if the friendship was ruined – but how great was it to love someone you already were close to, knew inside and out. (He thought it sounded pretty great). But so tired was his exhausted head that he forgot to say these things out loud.  
  
It was quiet for a long time and Jonghyun thought Jinki had fallen asleep before there was an even quieter question.  
  
“Do you think friendship is ruined by love?”  
  
“No,” Jonghyun answered, slowly realizing that Jinki had been on the same train of thought, a single moment where they lined up and were, for once, oddly in sync. “And love isn't ruined by friendship either.”  
  
Their hushed whispers leisurely gave way to the silence of the night. Jonghyun curled in on himself, knees hugging his chest, back curved against Jinki. He felt Jinki give him a light squeeze and then fall still.  
  
 _Remind yourself of that sometimes, Jonghyun_ , he thought he heard.  
  
-  
  
Jonghyun had a truck that ran on more hope than gas and was as old as balls. Or the sun – whichever was older. It was the one thing his dad had ever really gifted him in his life and despite his rickety relationship with the man, as creaky and uncomfortable as the car itself, Jonghyun treasured the ancient piece of shit.  
He had a tendency to run away. From just about everything but his feelings really (and sometimes even those) and having his own set of wheels helped. He’d gotten the car as a reward for his repeated desperate push to graduate high school at his mother’s wish – school had never exactly been Jonghyun’s forte, his grades had been apprehensively passable at the best of times and he had a penchant for just getting up and leaving when he didn’t want to be there. Why waste yours and the teacher’s time, right?  
  
So he’d leave. Not for very long, a few hours at most, maybe. Sometimes it was even as short as a couple minutes. He’d leave, collect himself, and come back because home is where the heart is and all that jazz, and his heart had always been with his small but tightknit group of friends. And they weren’t leaving anytime soon.  
  
Before, he would take a stroll around town or hop on a bus and ride as far as the change in his pocket would take him. But now, now he could give any of them a look (or a text, if they weren’t within looking range) and they’d pile into his car and just drive.  
  
That was Jonghyun’s favorite part. He was 173 centimeters of a sappy sentimental and nothing made him happier than seeing his friend’s smiles. They’d cram themselves into his beat up little old car, skin sticking to the sweaty faux leather, roll the windows down and drive wherever the hell they wanted. More often than not, one of them would open the sun roof (yes, an honest to god, fucking sunroof) and stand up on the seat, shouting out into the open air as they sped down the highway.  
  
He’d driven them down to the beach a few times, a lonely beach a couple hours away from town where the sun never shined and the sand was always just on the side of painfully coarse. They’d push each other in the water and look for crabs and climb rocks – all the things good boys like to do – and when the weak spot behind the clouds finally went down for the night they’d lay down some blankets and settle in against the sand to sleep.  
  
Jonghyun might have had the shittiest car in existence but he’d drive his friends anywhere.  
  
-  
  
The world was channeling the inside of an oven. The temperature had jumped up ten degrees from the day before and, with no air conditioner or ceiling fans, Jonghyun felt like a roasted pig. Or an ant when some snotty little kid turned a magnifying glass down on them  _just so_  and they went up in flames. Little assholes.  
The clock had just crept past two in the morning and the heat was only part of the reason Jonghyun was still awake. He’d laid down to sleep almost two hours prior and – nothing. Nothing but this shaky pounding in his chest, veins slowly constricting around his muscles, legs buzzing with some unknown intent. Jonghyun had plunged the room into darkness: heavy curtains over the windows, lights out, the whole nine yards.  
  
And still, nothing.  
  
It didn’t help that the room was so fucking hot that he could feel how damp his clothes were all over. Sighing, Jonghyun sat up and shucked his shirt off, tossing it somewhere into the darkness where he would likely forget about it until he ran out of clothes and had to go over to the laundromat in swim trunks and a hoodie. (Not that that had happened before or anything. Of course not.)  
  
Sporting only a pair of worn, drafty boxers and figuring that he might as well forfeit the idea of sleep, at least for a couple hours, Jonghyun slid off the bed. He blindly felt his way to the door until he could reach out and flick on the hallway light. Light flooded his eyes and he squinted, wincing because, okay holy shit that was really bright. Sightless once more, Jonghyun shuffled down the hallway until his eyes had adjusted to the light, careful to keep quiet so that he wouldn’t wake Minho.  
  
He was about to turn into the kitchen when he spotted Taemin on the couch.  
  
Taemin, who had been flopped over the arm, looked up from his phone when Jonghyun dragged himself into the room. He gave a little wave and then turned back to his phone. Jonghyun wasn’t surprised; Jinki, Kibum, and Taemin each had a copy of their key (kept very hush-hush because it wasn’t strictly regulation, you see) and it wasn’t uncommon for any one of them to stop by for a night or two.  
  
They practically all lived together anyway, even though really it was only Jonghyun and Minho. Technically it was only Jonghyun – his was the only name on the lease but, again, hush-hush. The others were transient guests, occupying the living room whenever they need a place to crash for whatever reason and he was happy to oblige. Jonghyun got it. It was all good.  
  
Jonghyun continued his trek into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. It never helped anything but he was so into his routine that he supposed it didn’t really matter. Maybe breaking the cycle would just make it worse, who knows.  
  
Taking a sip, he walked back out and sank down onto the couch, next to Taemin in the dark.  
  
“’Sup?” Taemin said casually, not looking up from his phone. Jonghyun watched the way the light bounced against Taemin’s tired face. It cast weird shadows over his cheeks and under his eyes, causing everything to look stretched and shrunken in. Jonghyun blinked.  
  
“Why are you still up?”  
  
“Why are you?” Taemin shot back.  
  
Okay, touchy subject.  
  
Jonghyun put his hands up in placation and relaxed back against the cushions. He rested his glass on his thigh, balancing it unsteadily with his fingers.  
  
“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered anyway. Taemin probably knew already –that, or he didn’t care.  
  
The other boy hummed idly, fingers still against the side of his phone. He was staring intently at it but Jonghyun hadn’t noticed him move since he’d sat down.  
  
“Hey, Taemin,” he ventured cautiously.  
  
When Taemin hummed again, he continued. “Everything alright?”  
  
Taemin looked up sharply and for half a second Jonghyun thought he saw a look of panic on his face. But it was gone in a flash, might not have ever been there at all, and his face smoothed out into a smile.  
  
“Yeah, sure! Peachy keen.”  
  
But for all that his mouth was smiling, Jonghyun could swear he saw a sad shimmer to Taemin’s eyes. He left it alone, though, because if Taemin didn’t want to talk, then he didn’t want to talk. Jonghyun wasn’t going to make him do anything. Taemin was a big boy, and if something was bothering him and he needed help then Jonghyun knew he’d ask them.  
  
They sat in silence after that, Taemin still staring at his phone and Jonghyun’s eyes crossing in and out of focus. His gaze distractedly fell to the floor.  
Taemin was gone by morning, having slipped out sometime in the few hours Jonghyun had been able to catch some sleep. He woke with a start, body jerking slightly. The room was filled with soft early morning light and Jonghyun nearly groaned. He hadn’t slept for long. Everything was cast in a thin blue filter and Jonghyun rolled his head along the cushions wearily.  
  
At some point he had tipped over to sprawl across the scratchy couch and he had numerous thin indentations staggering across his cheek. Jonghyun rubbed a hand lightly at the skin, futilely trying to get rid of them.  
  
It was still hot.  
  
It was still hot and the couch was itchy and it really didn’t help that he was almost completely naked because that just meant that more of the couch touched his skin. Still, Jonghyun closed his eyes again and listened to the faint whir of the refrigerator. There were some birds outside, chirping away annoying as ever and Jonghyun lazily imagined what that would sound like if he had his head buried in the dirt.  
  
From down the hallway there was a faint click and then a quiet squeak as Minho’s door opened. There came the soft padding of Minho’s bare feet against the carpet and then a muted sound of plastic shifting and Jonghyun felt a cool breeze against his face.  
  
Jonghyun waited for the sound of Minho walking away, but it didn’t come. He waited a moment longer and then slowly cracked his eyes open in time to see Minho bending down next to the table. The dim morning light caught the muscles on Minho’s bare arm, shifting as he moved to pick up a glass. Jonghyun’s glass. It had rolled off the couch and under the coffee table sometime while he’d been sleeping. Minho picked it up and Jonghyun watched the way Minho’s boxers creeped up his thighs.  
  
As Minho straightened up, Jonghyun’s eyes slipped closed and he pretended to be asleep once more as he heard Minho deposit the glass in the sink with a metallic clink.  
  
-  
  
Kim Kibum, the biggest wuss to pain in the history of the universe, was getting a tattoo. And of course Jonghyun was the man designated Kibum’s official hand-holder for the trip even though it meant he’d probably have all of his fingers broken in the process. Jinki had tagged along for support and Kibum made a fuss about it, complaining that it “wasn’t that big a deal” and he’d be “totally fine. God you guys it’s just a tattoo.” But Jonghyun could hear the relief in Kibum’s voice and, judging from Jinki’s pleasant smile, he could too.  
  
It was when Kibum was shirtless in the chair with the woman rubbing alcohol over his exposed shoulder that the shaking got really noticeable. Jonghyun, who had been sitting off to the side, out of the way, scooted his chair over and grabbed Kibum’s hand. He was smoothing calming circles over the other boy’s skin, for all the good it seemed to be doing.  
  
Jinki shifted his chair closer and ran a gentle hand down the back of Kibum’s hair. His shaking seemed to lessen, if only slightly.  
  
The design was stenciled on and the needle was procured and Jonghyun could see the tendons tight in Kibum’s neck.  
  
“Breathe, Kibum-ah,” Jonghyun murmured.  
  
The needle touched down on Kibum’s skin and Kibum’s grip on Jonghyun’s fingers became crushing. Jonghyun had steeled himself for it but Jesus Christ that boy had a strong grip on him. He knew the whole process wasn’t going to take long but each second that Kibum cut off the circulation to his fingers felt like it dragged on for twice as long as normal. He wondered what it was like for Kibum.  
  
About half way through, when Jonghyun felt the knuckles in his hand scraping together, he tugged on Jinki’s sleeve violently. They switched out and Kibum grasped Jinki’s hand in the familiar death grip.  
  
“Okay, okay,” Jinki said weakly, arm twisting down as if following Kibum’s hand would make the grip any weaker. “Ow. Kibum. My hand.”  
  
But he took it like a champ – and so did Kibum – and after the most drawn out and painful ten minutes of Jonghyun’s life, Kibum had a brand new tattoo across his shoulder, stark black ink standing out harshly against his red, shiny skin.  
  
Kibum’s face was drained of color, his bangs slightly damp with sweat, but he looked relieved – and more importantly, he looked happy. Jonghyun knew that Kibum had been weighing this decision for a long time and he’d sat in as the soundboard many a time as Kibum threw the pros and cons back and forth as if they were a ball in a tennis match. But once Jonghyun saw the way Kibum looked at his tattoo in the mirror, eyes going soft and almost peaceful, he was glad that Kibum had finally decided to do it.  
  
He’d gotten the constellation Libra, his birth sign, stretching out delicately across the smooth, pale skin of his left shoulder. It was simple, mostly tiny dots and thin lines, but among the stars of the constellation, there were five larger ones. Jonghyun stared, mesmerized, as the ointment was applied and the stars seem to almost twinkle at him.  
  
After he was all bandaged up and ready to go, the three of them left the shop. Kibum’s shirt covered most of the bandage but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from where the tip of it peaked over the collar. Jinki suggested they go get ice cream and Jonghyun vaguely thought he agreed but his head was already off in a different place. It wasn’t until they each had a cone in their hands and they were walking back that Jonghyun popped the question.  
  
“Hey, do you guys think I should get a tattoo too?” Jonghyun asked, metaphorical tail wagging double time as he walked with an excited bounce in his step.  
Jinki shot him a disinterested glance and licked ice cream off his lips. Kibum on the other hand leveled him with a look that said  _are you kidding me right now_.  
  
“Yah!” He said, brandishing his cone like a sword. “You only want one because I just got one.”  
  
“No!” Jonghyun denied, lying through his teeth. “How do you know I haven’t been thinking about getting one for a while, huh?”  
  
“Because when I first asked you about it you said you’d rather drop a hammer on your foot,” Kibum said flatly.  
  
Jonghyun’s nose crinkled. “Yeah, well, whatever.”  
  
Excitement deflated, Jonghyun licked dejectedly at his dripping ice cream. That metaphorical tail of his hung sadly between his legs as they walked, Kibum and Jinki chatting about something or other that Jonghyun wasn’t listening to.  
  
He could so get a tattoo if he wanted. It wasn’t because of Kibum. (Well, it wasn’t just because of Kibum.) Whatever. Jonghyun could be cool too; he’d just do something else. Like get another piercing, except maybe this time it would be somewhere other than his ear, like his eyebrow or some other cool place like that. And it’d be way cooler than a tattoo.  
  
He perked up at that, rolling ice cream around in his mouth, and wondered what Minho would have to say about it.


	2. Chapter 2

It started out with Taemin being a little shit, as most things did. He’d gotten the fabulous idea in his head that a water balloon fight would be just the thing they needed to cool off, and Jonghyun had to admit with this weather, he was spot on. But then Taemin started lobbing these hefty water balloons so full of water that they practically broke on contact.  
  
Jonghyun didn’t even have time to wonder where the hell Taemin had been keeping them before the front of his shirt was already soaked.  
  
Jinki had apparently been in on the idea because the two double teamed the rest of them pretty quickly; but when Minho got a hold of their stash, that’s when things started getting interesting. It turned into an all-out brawl, right in the middle of the tiny little cul-de-sac that Jinki lived in.  Kibum was screeching as Taemin broke two balloons against the back of his neck and Jonghyun watched with a huge, bright smile on his face as Minho broke a balloon over Jinki’s head.  
  
That smile quickly turned lopsided as Minho turned tactics and ran straight for him. Jonghyun pivoted, trying to get away but Minho, thanks to his freakishly long legs, caught him and pulled Jonghyun close enough to shove a balloon against the middle of his chest. The balloon burst, the spray hitting the both of them in the face and Jonghyun sputtered as Minho sprinted away. He could still feel the press of Minho’s palm and he took off after him to exact his revenge.  
  
Jonghyun was the first to shed his shirt – no surprise there – as the sun started dipping into the roofs of the houses. It was useless anyway, no inch spared from their watery warfare, and so he stripped it off, ringing the water out over Taemin.  
  
He snapped the shirt, catching the back of Kibum’s thigh and from then on it was war. The other boys began pulling off theirs, sharp drops of water getting flung into unsuspecting laughing faces. Jinki got him in the back particularly hard (the guy never seemed to really know his own strength) and Jonghyun was half certain he’d have some kind of welts all over his body.  
  
Still, they kept going until the streetlamps flickered on and the temperature dropped just enough to feel slightly chilly on their wet skin. Jonghyun shook out his shirt, still a little heavy from being waterlogged and stretched out to about twice its size. He groaned internally but figured that it didn’t matter much since it wasn’t one of his favorites anyway.  
  
They collapsed into the grass of Jinki’s front yard, the short spikes tickling their backs and leaving them itchy, and they talked until the moon rose high in the dark sky.  
  
Taemin started nodding off, hands slipping from his stomach and that’s when they called it quits. Jinki headed inside and the rest of them took off.  
  
Jonghyun could hear the cicadas filling the silence as they trudged onward down the empty streets. It was one of those sleepy summer nights and he took comfort in the quiet presence of his friends. Every once in a while, it was nice to have it like this: being lulled into a peaceful sense of harmony with them, feeling nothing but the moonlight on his back. He liked the quiet sometimes.  
  
They passed Kibum’s place first and Taemin headed in with him, saying he was going to crash there for the night. He and Minho waved goodbye to them and kept walking. Jonghyun liked it like this. He was in a lazy mood and Minho’s languid pace kept everything tranquil and dreamlike.  
  
Jonghyun stepped a little too far on one stride and their hands brushed. Minho smiled down at him smoothly, the corners of his eyes wrinkled with cheerful lines like striations in the sand.  
  
Jonghyun smiled back at him and bumped his shoulder against Minho’s arm. His skin was warm, warmer than the air outside that night, warmer than the inside of their place when they finally pushed open the door, warmer than the fabric of the couch on the back of his legs when he collapsed on it.  
  
His wrinkled, stretched shirt was tossed on the coffee table and Minho’s followed it shortly with a dull thudding sound.  
  
The television was clicked on and Jonghyun relaxed in the droning sound. There was a dog barking somewhere way off in the distance, its echoing howls bouncing sluggishly around in his head as his eyes crossed back and forth. The cushion next to him depressed with a soft  _whump_  as Minho sat down.  
  
“Hey.” Minho’s voice rumbled up his throat all the way from the center of the earth.  
  
Jonghyun’s head tipped to the side.  
  
“Hey,” Minho tried again, nudging Jonghyun’s shoulder with his. He was still too, too warm.  
  
He made some sort of noise in reply, eyes still half-unfocused in the direction of the TV.  
  
“Did you know that a giraffe’s horns are called ossicones?”  
  
Jonghyun blinked at him. “What.”  
  
Minho’s eyes seemed to sparkle at him and then just like that, the weird tension seeping from Jonghyun’s head dissipated and a smile cracked its way onto his mouth. He huffed a laugh and pinched Minho’s side, grabbing the tight skin in between his fingers and squeezing, just for a moment, before he let go. Minho slapped his hand away, bright laughter tinkling in Jonghyun’s ear like a wind chime. It was like the deep sound of those hollow brass pipes, clanging merrily against each other, spurred on by the feel of a breeze. Jonghyun made sure to poke him, just for good measure.  
  
“Ah, it’s too hot,” Minho complained loudly, flopping over onto Jonghyun’s lap.  
  
“Yeah, well that’s not gonna make it any better,” Jonghyun said, absentmindedly fixing Minho’s hair. But he didn’t push him off. Instead, his eyes focused on the television once more in muted fascination. It was one of those strange infomercials that they liked so much and Jonghyun was transfixed by the commanding boom of the announcer’s voice.  
  
“Hyung,” Minho murmured sleepily, head still affixed to Jonghyun’s leg. He’d been laying there for some time while Jonghyun watched commercial after commercial of strange and exciting products that promised to improve his life. And as he’d been lying there, it was hot enough that Jonghyun could feel a thin layer of sweat building between them. It must have been uncomfortable.  
  
He hummed in lieu of an actual response and ran his fingers through Minho’s hair.  
  
“Can we go to the movies tomorrow?” Minho mumbled, eyes fighting a losing battle and finally slipping closed. “I wanna see that movie that just came out.” His voice seemed to be simmering in his vocal cords, deep and throaty as it bubbled just past his lips.  
  
“Sure,” Jonghyun said. He leaned back against the couch, fingers playing with the tangle of hair just behind Minho’s ear.  
  
“Thanks, hyung.”  
  
And Jonghyun creaked an eye open just in time to catch the tiny, satisfied smile on Minho’s lips. One rose to his own lips of its own volition.  
  
There was a long beat of silence, spreading itself out into the corners of the room before Minho said, “Hyung?”  
  
He sounded unsure and Jonghyun tugged a lock of hair in reply, trying to loosen him up.  
  
“Can you…” Minho paused and Jonghyun heard a car backfire outside. “Can you sing me something?”  
  
Jonghyun licked his lips.  
  
“Anything?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
He let out a breath. “Okay.”  
  
And then he sang. He picked something soft, sweet; something that would lull Minho into a calm and easy sleep. Truthfully, he liked singing like this the best, slow and gentle and a little raspy. Ballads were his favorite because those were the ones with every drop of emotion that had permeated humanity, and he knew a thing or two about emotion. And so he sang until Minho’s chest rose and fell slowly, dipping like a valley into the hollow of his throat.  
  
Jonghyun traced the air above it lightly, voice settling over Minho to tuck him in to sleep.  
  
-  
  
They were just chilling in the park, caught in a day where no children were about and they had the whole place to themselves, when this dude came up to them and he was fucking clueless.  
  
He had a gang behind him – he’d have been stupid not to – and they slouched and glared like middle schoolers, as if that made them intimidating or something. Jonghyun pushed himself off the bench he’d been half-dozing on and cracked his neck. It had been slow lately, too slow, and he felt a feral grin spread on his face as the others fanned out beside him. Jonghyun pulled himself up, back rigid, and tilted his head back to look down his nose at the guy.  
  
They were in some malformed blob of a group and maybe that was why the guy stopped in front of Minho instead.  
  
“I’m gonna break you into pieces,” he said, staring Minho in the eye with his best poker face.  
  
“Hey, ass face,” Jonghyun started hotly. “He’s not the leader – I am.”  
  
The guy gave him a cursory glance out of the corner of his eye. “Whatever you say, short stuff.”  
  
Jonghyun fumed and grabbed the guy’s shoulders. He got a knee to the balls for that one – punk ass wannabes don’t get to make smart remarks, especially not about his supposed lack of height. (It wasn’t his fault Minho was just stupidly tall, okay?)  
  
That was the catalyst; everyone spurred into action and the air was a blur of first and wheezy grunts. They were matched evenly, five to five, and Jonghyun was tackled to the ground as one of the guys from behind rushed to defend their leader’s honor. He hit the ground and rolled, using his momentum to his advantage to dislodge the huge guy. The guy’s elbow landed in his solar plexus and he was winded for a second as the other guy landed face first in the dirt.  
  
He had a quick second to glance around and see how everyone was faring – Kibum was holding his own, dodging the guy at least a head taller than him and throwing out taunts to get him to lose his focus – before he was knocked into by the dude Taemin was, quite frankly, having a hard time against.  
  
Jonghyun ducked a punch and kicked out at the guy’s hip. But Taemin had his hands full once again as the guy Jonghyun had rolled to the ground came after him instead.  
  
They weren’t as pathetic as they looked. Jonghyun had thought they were just big guys who thought they knew how to fight just because of their stature – he’d seen a lot of guys like that and wiped the floor with their sorry asses. But these guys didn’t have just the height or the muscle, they had the know-how too and it lit a fire inside of him. It had been  _too damn long_.  
  
He felt the skin scrape on his knuckles as he buried his fist into the guy’s nose. It blossomed with blood, sprayed the front of Jonghyun’s shirt and  _god damn it_  he’d  _liked_  this shirt. He snarled and aimed for his cheek, missed as the guy just narrowly dodged it, and got a knee to the stomach for his trouble.  
  
“Oh, you son of a bitch,” he growled, and knocked the guy to the ground.  
  
He quickly pulled himself up, kneeling over the guy’s stomach and started to go to town on his face. Jonghyun had to hand it to the guy – even from his position, he was blocking almost half of Jonghyun’s blows – but soon enough Jonghyun broke through and made contact.  
  
When the guy stopped trying to defend, arms falling limply away from his battered face, Jonghyun paused, wiped his bloody knuckles on his jeans, and stood up. He wasn’t going to fight someone who wasn’t going to fight back.  
  
He saw a flash of Minho bringing an arm down on the leader’s back before a grunt from Taemin stole his attention. Taemin was a thin guy, and he wasn’t doing too hot against this guy on his own if the long scrapes down his arms and back, his ragged breathing and tangled hair were any indication. Jonghyun rushed him from behind, pulling his arms back and holding them tight, even as the guy thrashed around, nearly dislodging Jonghyun. Taemin’s fists went flying.  
  
And then there was a strange moment of clarity where he saw it all happen in slow motion.  
  
Kibum’s trickery hadn’t been able to last for long. He’d dodged and laughed and jeered and then the guy had gotten too pissed off that even being sloppy hadn’t been able to stop him from grabbing Kibum’s still healing, tender shoulder. Jinki rushed in – fucking turning on a dime like Kibum’s shout of pain was instinct. But he came in from behind just as the guy’s massive arm came hurtling backwards in a windup and it caught him in the face, smashed into his cheek and send him hurtling backwards. He hit the ground hard, head snapping back sharply, and Jonghyun felt like he’d been slugged in the stomach.  
  
Minho, seeming to act without pause, kicked out the back of the guy’s knee and he went down, knees buckling as he landed sharply against the ground. He was there in a second, pushing away a frantic Kibum and kneeling over Jinki. Jonghyun’s heart had stopped and it stuttered brokenly back into rhythm as he rushed over, legs oddly uncooperative.  
  
Minho was lightly tapping Jinki’s cheek, urgently crying, “hyung, hyung! Wake up!” until Jinki’s eyes opened a few seconds later. Immediately, his face screwed up and he brought a hand to his head, rolling over onto his side. Kibum was near sobbing and Taemin kneeled behind him, face grim and tight as he put a hand on Kibum’s shoulder.  
  
“Shit,” Jonghyun breathed.  
  
Minho grabbed Jinki’s shoulder, rolling him back over slowly and turned Jinki’s face toward him.  
  
“Hyung, can you hear me?” Jonghyun could almost feel the tremble in his voice.  
  
Jinki groaned with a minute nod, and Minho continued. “What’s my name, hyung?”  
  
“Whazzat?” Jinki slurred and immediately Minho’s face shuttered.  
  
“Hyung, what’s my name?” he asked more urgently.  
  
“Where’m I?”  
  
“Hyung, please, what’s my name?” Minho questioned frantically, grabbing Jinki’s shoulder.  
  
Jinki pushed his hand away irritably. “Min-o.”  
  
His eyes were dilated and he sat up slowly, hands slipping against the ground before they caught traction. When Minho tried to steady him, he pushed him away again, swaying dangerously before staying upright.  
  
Jonghyun kneeled next to Minho, bony knees digging into the dry dirt uncomfortably.  
  
“Is he okay?” he whispered to Minho. Kibum and Taemin were trying to help him stand up but Jinki kept stumbling over himself.  
  
“I think he has a concussion.” Minho dropped his head into his hands, fingers dragging down over his face after a moment.  
  
“Shit,” Jonghyun choked. “Shit, shit,  _shit_.”  
  
“We need to get him to a hospital.” Kibum’s voice shook weakly.  
  
As Jonghyun and Minho moved to either side of Jinki, looping their arms around him to hold him up, Jonghyun dully noted that the other guys had backed off. They were standing a ways off, quiet and unthreatening as Jonghyun and company gathered themselves up to leave. Jonghyun gave their leader a nod, face serious and tense, as they shuffled away. He didn’t like leaving a fight like this, but Jinki was more important than any fight would ever be and Jonghyun was grateful for their respectfulness.  
  
They took Jinki to the hospital, Taemin driving Kibum’s car when he realized the other boy’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. They were all in the waiting room (save for Kibum who had walked Jinki back into his denoted room), and Jonghyun paced back and forth like a caged tiger. He was anxious and scared, his anger radiating off of him in red hot waves.  
  
After fifteen minutes, Minho’s hand reached out and he grabbed Jonghyun’s arm, fingers gentle but firm around his wrist.  
  
“Sit down, hyung,” he said quietly.  
  
Jonghyun collapsed in his chair testily, arms coming up to cross over his chest. His leg bounced restlessly until Minho laid a quiet hand on it.  
  
“Minho –” he started angrily.  
  
“Hyung, please.” Minho looked at him, large eyes filled to the brim with worry. “We’re all nervous. Just sit down and wait, okay?”  
  
All the air left him at once and Jonghyun felt like a deflated balloon, discarded and wrinkled on the ground. He folded in on himself, face buried in his knees as he shook. He wouldn’t cry –  _he wouldn’t_  – but it was going to be tough. Two seats down, Taemin had shut himself down, face shuttered, blank, and Minho next to him was tense, back ramrod straight as he kept his eyes trained on the hallway.  
  
Nothing had scared him this bad in years. They’d had a fight, one of their first ones actually, years back when they’d all been cocky and invincible. And then Taemin had broken his arm in three places (more of an accident than from any intent from the guy Jonghyun later beat the shit out of) and they’d learned what it meant to have something more important than themselves.  
  
He couldn’t stand it. Everything was too muted, the receptionist, the steady beeping from some room down the hall, the clack of shoes and carts. Jonghyun felt like his ears were blocked with cotton, wanted to shake his head and scream until his jaw cracked so that maybe everything would clear up and he’d fall out of this honey-thick sluggishness that had seeped into his head.  
  
And then Minho’s hand came up and broke it all away as he smoothed down the back of Jonghyun’s hair. He came away with leaves and twigs in his palm, dirt settled into the grooves of his skin. His hand closed around it, the other one coming up to cup everything in place and he stood up. When Minho’s back turned to him, Jonghyun felt a flash of panic and his hand was half way to twisting into Minho’s shirt as the other boy stepped away.  
  
His hand shook and Jonghyun lowered it back into his lap, frightened. Jinki going down like that had shaken him too much, left him feeling vulnerable and alone. That wasn’t his right. He wasn’t allowed to feel like this because Jinki was the one somewhere in the recesses of the hospital getting his head looked at and, oh god, what if there was any lasting damage?  
  
Minho came back silently, lowering himself in front of Jonghyun and waited quietly. Jonghyun lifted his head, stared down at Minho, almost couldn’t comprehend the face he was seeing just inches from him for a few beats. But then Minho smiled at him, just a little thing, and squeezed Jonghyun’s hand reassuringly.  
  
And then Jonghyun saw it – the shakiness in his smile, how it was too wobbly around the edges, and he remembered that he wasn’t in this alone. He squeezed back tightly and then let go as Minho sank down into his chair once more, long arm sneaking out to snake around Taemin’s shoulder and pull the catatonic boy into his side. Taemin relaxed against him just the tiniest bit, eyes still directed sightlessly to the floor.  
  
Minho and Jinki, they were their anchors. With Jinki not being there, Minho had to take the entire burden on himself and Jonghyun felt something sweep through him. They all needed each other. Minho had to be strong for them because he always was, because they needed him to be. But now Jonghyun needed to step in and be strong for Minho, because Jinki wasn’t there at his back and someone needed to look out for him too.  
  
They waited, nerves in shambles, until Jinki and Kibum walked out, Kibum’s hand resting supportively on Jinki’s arm.  
  
Jinki was okay. He was going to be okay.  
  
Jonghyun could have cried. The last two hours had felt like a lifetime but everything was going to be okay and they were all going home in one piece. He walked up to Jinki, wrapping his arms around the boy and squeezing tight because, Jesus, he’d been so scared. A few tears might have leaked out but no one said anything.  
  
Jonghyun felt the others gather around them, arms coming up on all sides to lock them all in, safe. They all stood there, heads bowed together, and maybe it was an overreaction and people were definitely staring but he honestly couldn’t give a damn. He had his friends there and everyone was okay and things were going to be all right.  
  
They left the hospital and dropped Taemin off first. He hopped out of the car with a tired wave and then they were off once more. Minho and Jonghyun were next, Kibum pausing only to let them know he was taking Jinki back to his house so that he could watch over him. They wished him well, Minho clasping Jinki’s hand tightly.  
  
It was bright outside, the sun still shining cheerily and Jonghyun felt like there was a disconnect between the weather and the day’s events. He headed straight for his room, falling face first onto his bed. The room was dark, window blocked and filtering in only the tiniest bit of yellow light.  
  
Jonghyun breathed into his pillow and shook.  
  
He heard the soft padding of footsteps, down the hall, into his room. They stopped right by his bed and a warm hand stroked his arm once. There was a pause and then the footsteps headed back. Minho closed his door softly and Jonghyun was grateful that Minho gave him the chance to be alone.  
  
-  
  
“…So at least if you drop out of school, you can be a stripper,” Jonghyun commented idly.  
  
“What the hell, Jonghyun,” Jinki laughed, mouth stretched into a wide smile. He looked like a happy little bunny, Jonghyun thought. Hippity hop hop.  
  
“They make bank, man! You could pay off all your student loans!”  
  
Jinki was laughing too hard to respond, falling against Taemin, who had his fist pressed into his mouth as he tried to stifle his laughter.  
  
“And you’d have a great core,” Minho added, casual as you please.  
  
“And legs.”  
  
“Holy shit, yeah, have you seen their thighs?” Taemin chimed in.  
  
“And arms,” Kibum said, leering.  
  
“Everything, basically.”  
  
“But especially core,” Minho said. He paused a moment, and then, “And thighs.”  
  
The conversation carried on like that for a while, overlapping voices melting into each other until Jonghyun could barely follow who was talking.  
  
Somehow they drifted into discussion about pole exercises and Jonghyun leaned back on his arms and commented, “you’d probably be pretty good at it, Jinki”.  
  
Minho rolled his eyes, good-naturedly, sly smile settled on his lips. “Would you go see him then, hyung?”  
  
Kibum shrieked with laughter as Jonghyun’s ears heated up. “N-no!”  
  
“Hyung wants to see Jinki pole dance!” Taemin cackled.  
  
Jonghyun huffed and leaned back against the dusty pillar, trying to hide his reddening face, thanking god for the awful yellow streetlights. A light breeze danced along his skin, ruffling his bangs and causing ripples to roll along their thin shirts.  
  
The nights were deceptively cool, but only to a fault. It had been hot today, as always, and the heat was steadily climbing each day, racing itself to near record breaking temperatures.  
  
Jinki tossed him a paper fan, smiling coyly, and Jonghyun nearly chucked it back at him with a grin. Taemin’s porch wasn’t well ventilated – but then again, neither was his house. Just about anywhere they could have chosen to go would have been as god-awful hot as the next place, so why be extravagant about it?  
  
“Besides,” Taemin had said, lounging on the steps, “my dad won’t be back until Tuesday.”  
  
He’d been met with solemn, understanding nods all around.  
  
They had been hanging out there since the sun had dropped down and the temperature had only seemed to rise with the moon. Jonghyun watched Kibum pull his shirt away from his sticky skin with a grimace, trying to air out the area around his shoulder.  
  
Taemin popped off inside and returned minutes later with a large pitcher of sangria that he’d hidden in the back of the fridge where his father wouldn’t find it.  
  
“Fucking asshole woulda drank it all,” he muttered. “And me and Jinki finally perfected it.”  
  
Minho passed out the cups and they toasted to “the best fucking sangria you’ll ever have” before they each knocked back a cup. Jonghyun relaxed, holding the cup against his knee as he stared out at the street. It was later than it felt, the sun having set so late in the summer months, and it was one of those rare times where his nerves just completely fizzled out and he didn’t have that awful buzzing clouding uncomfortably under his skin and in his head.  
  
Jinki scooted over, rolling over Taemin who protested loudly, and bumped Jonghyun’s shoulder with his.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Jonghyun bumped him back. “Hey.”  
  
“When are we gonna finish that game?” Jinki asked, leaning back on his palms and looking over at Jonghyun from the corner of his eye.  
  
“When are  _you_  gonna come over so we can finish that game?” Jonghyun countered, trying to hide his grin.  
  
He knew that Jinki coming over meant that it would be just the two of them again and he knew that  _that_  meant a continuation of their conversation from that time. It had been weighing heavy on his mind and he had questions to ask, even if he didn’t exactly know what those questions were. He glanced around and froze when he saw Minho looking at them; Jonghyun felt like he was doing something wrong and he’d just gotten caught. He turned back to Jinki stiffly.  
  
“Soon,” Jinki promised. But Jonghyun thought it was never really that easy.  
  
There was a loud smack and Jonghyun turned, catching sight of Taemin brushing at his arm hastily.  
  
“Fucking mosquitoes,” he muttered bitterly.  
  
Minho snorted and Taemin smacked him instead. Jonghyun smirked and went to go bother Kibum instead as Jinki was now staring out at the road blankly, like he sometimes did. It was best to just leave him be until he shook himself out of it, Jonghyun had found.  
  
He pulled himself up onto the porch railing next to Kibum, feet swinging in between the bars happily. He felt like a kid, which was kind of weird and kind of nice and Kibum looked at him with exasperation, but when Jonghyun nudged the back of his heel, he started swinging his legs too. They sat together, drinks resting next to their sides, feet swinging in time with each other.  
  
“You wanna go down to the beach next weekend?” Jonghyun asked, changing his timing so that his feet would swing on the in-between beats of Kibum’s rhythm.  
  
“What, just us two?” Kibum’s eyes were closed and he looked more relaxed than Jonghyun could remember seeing him in far too long.  
  
“Yeah.” He started swinging his feet side to side instead, paying careful attention to knock them against Kibum’s. “We could leave early and drive down and just spend the whole day there.”  
  
“What, you wanna take me on a date or something?”  
  
Jonghyun pursed his lips. “Nah, I just miss you. Come on, we’ll pack a picnic or something.”  
  
Kibum opened one eye slowly to stare at Jonghyun, a fond slyness on his face before his eyes were closed once more, head tilted upwards towards the sky, the artificial lights spilling into the street.  
  
“You sap,” he said quietly, and Jonghyun knew that really meant  _okay_.  
  
Energized, Jonghyun hopped off the railing and stood in the middle of the porch. “Let’s make a toast,” he declared importantly, looking around and waiting until everyone’s eyes were on him.  
  
“To the best fucking sangria we’ll ever have,” Jonghyun said, raising his cup and winking at Taemin. “And to the best friends I’ll ever have.”  
  
“Oh, boo!” Kibum ribbed, but Jonghyun saw him smile around the rim of his cup.  
  
Minho appeared next to him, silent as ever, and knocked his cup against Jonghyun’s ceremoniously. Jonghyun’s eyes raised to his and Minho held the stare as he took a long, slow drink. Jonghyun looked away, embarrassed, and his eyes drifted down to Minho’s neck, watched the way his throat worked up and down as he drank. He swallowed thickly and looked back up just in time to see Minho lick the excess liquid from his lips and break eye contact.  
  
Jonghyun knocked back the rest of his cup quickly.  
  
-  
  
Minho had been clingy lately. Or – at least more clingy than normal. He was everywhere, hands everywhere, arms everywhere, and if Jonghyun turned around and Minho's ginormous cow eyes were staring into his soul one more time he was going to scream. Now, normally he didn’t have a problem with clinginess – he was a pretty clingy guy himself – skinship was rad and all that. But Minho just would not leave him alone for two seconds and Jonghyun was about ready to tether him up outside like a dog.  
  
He got up to answer the knock on the door, Minho trailing not far behind him. Minho tried to be inconspicuous about it, like he was getting a glass of water from the kitchen after following Jonghyun down the hallway, but Jonghyun was not buying it. He had no idea what Minho’s deal was, but he had a game to win.  
  
“Ay!” Jonghyun exclaimed, opening the door so that Jinki and Taemin could step inside. Jinki was carrying a fold out chair and he greeted Jonghyun while walking it into the kitchen. Jonghyun could hear him and Minho trade pleasantries and for some reason it grated on his nerves.  
  
“Where’s Kibum?” Taemin asked, slouching around the room like a hooligan.  
  
Jonghyun knocked him lightly on the back and Taemin stuck his tongue out at him. “He said he’ll be here soon.”  
  
They headed into the kitchen where Jinki was sitting at the table shuffling cards like a pro and making it look easy. Jonghyun was jealous; Jinki knew how to use his hands. (Dude. Not like that. Okay, maybe like that but Jonghyun had never been on the receiving end so shut up.)  
  
Jinki bridged the cards and they arched beautifully; he really could do anything, provided it was some obscure talent. They settled around him at the table, Jonghyun picking the seat to his left because Jinki had a habit of not looking that way as often and Jonghyun had an awful poker face. He almost always lost because everyone could read him like a book – surprise surprise.  
  
The stakes were determined and the cards were dealt out. They never bet money: it was too precious of an item for any of them, just a little too rare to be comfortable. Instead, they bet truths and dares, they bet instances to one-up each other and tease the living daylights out of each other because that’s what good friends did, right? (Right.) Anything that would embarrass the loser was fair game provided it wasn’t downright cruel – as if they would be – and the games usually ended with a fair amount of secrets spilled and more than a few potential blackmail materials.  
  
Dares were on the menu for the night: anything went as long as it could be carried out by the end of the day and if you couldn’t collect on a dare by the end of the game then it became void.  
  
Jonghyun fanned out his cards and used them to hide his frown. He never got anything good. This game was no exception and Jinki swept the first three rounds because he had godly hands and was most likely cheating. (Or so Jonghyun convinced himself so he’d feel better.) He orchestrated his power by making Minho do a handstand for a minute – Jonghyun got a good flash of his stomach, muscles stretched taut, for far too long to feel comfortable – and for Taemin – . Well.  
  
Taemin got babied by all of them, but  _especially_  by Jinki, and so he was given menial tasks like “go out and buy chips” and “refill my glass”. Jonghyun had escaped his notice for the most part so far but he figured Jinki would pull something on him eventually. He heard the front door open and close, signaling Kibum’s arrival. (He’d left the door unlocked for Kibum, knew the other boy would let himself in when he got there. He had a key anyway, but still.)  
  
Jonghyun nodded his head in greeting when Kibum appeared in the doorway. He hung around there instead of coming to the table stating, “you already started this one and you know I won’t be able to resist looking at everyone’s hand.” They continued, making conversation filled with friendly ribbing to try and throw each other’s concentration off.  
  
Taemin was starting to sweep them when Minho turned to Jonghyun, a playful glint in his eyes.  
  
“Hey, Jonghyunnie hyung,” he said, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.  
  
“Yeah?” he replied cautiously.  
  
Minho tapped his cheek. “Gimme some sugar.”  
  
The other boys looked up from their cards as Jonghyun blanched and started choking. When Minho started making kissy noises, Jonghyun responded by gagging loudly, fueled on by how obviously amused Jinki and Taemin were.  
  
“Come on baby, don’t you love me?” Minho cooed, pulling at Jonghyun’s shoulders, trying to urge his chair (and, by proxy, him) closer.  
  
Jonghyun struggled humorously, pushing at Minho’s chest as Minho tried to drag him closer to nuzzle his face. Jinki and Taemin were properly and thoroughly distracted now and Jonghyun came to the conclusion that Choi Minho was a dirty, dirty cheat.  
  
Suddenly, Jonghyun’s arms went lax and he grabbed at Minho’s head, planting a loud, sloppy kiss on his cheek. The boys roared with laughter as Minho made screeching noises, his normally deep voice jumping up a couple octaves in pitch. He rubbed his cheek red with a hand and smacked Jonghyun’s thigh. But he was smiling because, hey, not only did he succeed with his plan of  _cheating_ , he got a kiss from THE Kim Jonghyun. Pretty big feat, if Jonghyun did say so himself.  
  
From the doorway, Jonghyun spied Kibum, still leaning against the doorway. He was watching their carrying-ons, but instead of having fun with it like the rest of them, his arms were crossed and his posture tense. Jonghyun tried giving him a smile, but Kibum just looked back at him warily. Jonghyun figured that meant they’d have a talk later, but Kibum swiftly changed the subject every time he tried to bring it up.  
  
-  
  
Minho came into his room as Jonghyun was rummaging around for a shirt in a pile of clothes on the floor.  
  
“Hey,” he said, still bent over. “We really need to do laundry soon.”  
  
“No,  _you_  need to do laundry,” Minho said from somewhere behind him. “I have a bunch of clean things still.”  
  
“Yeah okay, golden child,” Jonghyun snapped as he finally pulled a shirt from the pile. He thought it still smelled clean – he’d just douse himself in body spray and it’d probably be okay.  
  
He straightened up, jeans slipping just that much further down his slender hips. Jonghyun could feel one hipbone peeking out over his boxers and ignored it; he wasn’t required to wear clothes properly in his own damn house. Minho was leaning in the door jamb watching him coolly.  
  
“Like what you see?” Jonghyun muttered sexily, shaking his hips a little. His jeans may or may not have been just barely hanging on.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Minho replied flatly. “I love bedhead and ratty jeans. Totally my thing.”  
  
“Yeah, I knew it would be,” Jonghyun said, voice reeking of confidence. He pulled the shirt over his head and turned back to dig for a pair of (hopefully) mostly clean socks. With any luck, they’d match too.  
  
“ _Cum As You Are_ ,” came Minho’s dry voice. He could almost hear the way Minho’s eyes rolled. “Classy.”  
  
Jonghyun turned towards him, a large grin on his face as he raised an eyebrow teasingly. “I always am.”  
  
He found a pair of socks and tugged them on, quickly followed by the most beat up pair of boots he owned. They were ages old but he couldn’t bear to part with them. Much like the used candle glass jars and shoe boxes full of ticket stubs, bus fares,  _memories_ , Jonghyun just couldn’t throw things away. His life was stashed away in these broken knick-knacks – how do you just give up something like that?  
  
He finished lacing up his boots and started as he realized Minho hadn’t left still.  
  
“You’re still here?” he asked, surprised.  
  
Minho just hummed. Okay, Mr. Cryptic. Jonghyun squeezed his way past and planted himself in front of the mirror in the bathroom. Geeze, Minho wasn’t kidding, his hair really was a mess. As he raked his fingers through his hair, willing it into some semblance of “effortlessly tousled”, he saw Minho’s form appear out of the corner of his eye. Obviously they weren’t done with the whole clingy business yet.  
  
“Yo, you should come with me to do laundry.”  
  
“Right now?”  
  
“No, in five years,” Jonghyun said, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I’m gonna go right after this.”  
  
“But I don’t have anything to wash.”  
  
Jonghyun turned on the faucet and ran his fingers under the water before he turned them back to his hair, tugging out tiny knots. “Yeah, but I do and it gets so boring there.” He gave up and grabbed a comb from the medicine cabinet. “Come keep me company.”  
  
“Needy,” Minho smirked.  
  
“You shut your face.”  
  
The laundromat was a tiny thing only a few blocks away. Jonghyun had stuffed all his clothes into a large bag and dragged it over with Minho laughing at how small it made him look. He’d huffed (and puffed) and steadfastly ignored Minho’s loud laughter sprinkling through the air in large drops. Nope. He didn’t hear it at all.  
  
Jonghyun dumped his whole load into a washer, not bothering to separate any of it, and pulled out a bag of quarters. He pushed a few buttons and once the grumbling whir started up, he flipped the bag over his shoulder and sauntered over to where Minho was seated, phone already pulled out.  
  
After a minute of silence (Jonghyun counted) he said, “how are you supposed to entertain me if you’re ignoring me for your phone?”  
  
Minho looked up and blinked like he’d never seen Jonghyun before. “I’m sorry? Who are you?”  
  
“You. Are. Useless.” Jonghyun flopped across the row of seats and looked around. There weren’t many people around, which was a surprise because it was the middle of the day. As boring as it could be, Jonghyun liked going to the laundromat; you always got to see a lot of interesting people and he’d talked to more than a few of them.  
  
“Come on, hyung,” Minho said and tugged his arm. “Don’t be like that.”  
  
Jonghyun let Minho pull him up and then he flopped right over Minho’s lap like a ragdoll so enthusiastically he almost fell off the seats. Minho laughed at his expense, Jonghyun could tell, but he let him. He liked making Minho laugh like that.  
  
Minho patted his shoulder and Jonghyun sat up, eyes scanning the dryers. He watched the active ones circle around and around, colorful clothes tumbling in infinite circles inside.  
  
“You want anything to eat?” He asked after he’d begun making himself dizzy. He shook his head, eyes feeling like they were bouncing around in their sockets.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Food. Do you want it?”  
  
“Nah, I’m good.”  
  
“Cool. Watch my stuff, I’m gonna go get a soda,” Jonghyun said as he stood up and brushed down his jeans.  
  
“Like anyone would want your beat up old clothes,” Minho muttered, ducking his head down to look at his phone.  
  
“What’d you say?” Jonghyun glared playfully, rounding on him. He could see a smile creeping up the corners of Minho’s mouth. Jonghyun turned to leave, but not before he roughly messed up Minho’s perfect hair. It felt like a goddamn cloud.  
  
The few people that had been in the laundromat had cleared out by the time Jonghyun had gotten back ( _that was fast_ ) and Minho may have been turned into a statue for all he’d moved during that time.  
  
Jonghyun walked over to the seats, about to lay down once more before Minho spoke up.  
  
“Kibum told me he got a job.”  
  
“He did?”  
  
“Yeah. Working for his parents’ shop.”  
  
Jonghyun tossed his bangs out of his eyes. “Oh.” He thought about it. “That’s not too bad.”  
  
“Hey –” Minho turned towards him, phone hidden away. “Has he been acting weird to you lately?”  
  
“What do you mean?” Jonghyun’s brow furrowed as he tried to backtrack the last few days.  
  
“Like, has he been saying weird things to you?”  
  
“I don’t think so?”  
  
Minho’s whole face scrunched up into his worried look. Jonghyun thought it kind of made him look like a frog and he made sure to tell him, trying to break the serious air.  
  
“Hyung, be serious,” Minho said roughly. “I’m worried about him.”  
  
“Okay, okay.” Jonghyun put his hands up in surrender. “What kinds of things has he been saying?”  
  
“I don’t…really know,” Minho said, eyes trained on the back wall. “Just. Weird things.”  
  
No one else had mentioned anything. Maybe Kibum was just being weird around Minho, then.  
  
“He keeps asking me things about you,” Minho said suddenly. “Like he wants to know what I think about different things.” Jonghyun turned towards him, oddly interested.  
  
“Yeah?” He said, keeping his voice light. “Like what?”  
  
“Different things. He asked me what hair color I liked on you best,” Minho said, voice growing quieter even though they were the only ones around.  
  
“And what did you say?” Minho’s ears were slightly pink and Jonghyun had to stop himself from scooting forward eagerly in his seat.  
  
Minho shrugged, the motion stilted. “I said I liked this hair on you.” Jonghyun could barely hear his voice, but his heart stuttered when he caught it.  
  
“Oh?” his voice rose a pitch and he coughed. “I like it too. This hair.”  
  
There was a beat of silence and then Minho’s weird reticence seemed to dissolve and he turned towards Jonghyun. “But when I asked him what he thought, he just waved a hand at me and told me not to worry about it.”  
  
Jonghyun tilted his head. What?  
  
“Yeah, and he did that every time he brought you up!” Minho protested. “It was really weird, hyung. He only ever asked me things when no one else was around.”  
  
Jonghyun finally gave up, flopping backwards onto the hard plastic seats. “That is weird,” he mused. “But Kibum’s a weird guy so –”. He gave a shrug, the movement inhibited by the way his shirt caught underneath him.  
  
“I guess…”  
  
Minho didn’t seem convinced but, well, Jonghyun couldn’t change Kibum’s strange behavior. Not unless he saw it himself. He kicked at Minho’s calf lightly, not sure of anything else he could do.  
  
It never occurred to him that this might be a strange conversation they were having, not even when he thought about it later that night, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
-  
  
A lazy curl of smoke climbed into the air.  
  
“You better open a window,” Jonghyun said as he grabbed the lighter. “Minho hates it when it smells like smoke in here.”  
  
“Sorry, sorry,” Jinki apologized, blowing his smoke out the window before he moved back to the couch. Jonghyun pointed the little floor fan towards the open window in the hopes that it would push some of the smoke out before it could sink into the furniture and embed itself in the fabric for all eternity.  
  
Probably wouldn’t work, but hey.  
  
He slipped the cigarette in between his lips, holding it there as he fiddled with his controller. Next to him, Jinki laid back against the cushions, arms spread out across the back, the cigarette held loosely between his fingertips releasing tiny spirals of smoke. Jonghyun watched the smoke for a moment, his eyes almost twisting to follow the way it looped in between itself.  
  
When Jinki’s hand moved, gliding smoothly to his mouth so that he could take another drag, Jonghyun shook his head and remembered the stick perched between his own lips. He tossed a controller to Jinki and dragged the coffee table closer, the ashtray sitting casually on the edge. Jonghyun always forgot to use it, dropped ashes down all over his shirt each time without fail.  
  
But Jinki – Jinki was all cool confidence and easy relaxation. Jonghyun could never look the way that Jinki looked when he had a cigarette. Jonghyun would rather jump off a bridge than admit it, but he had practiced before, in front of the mirror, tried to look just like Jinki did. He rolled his head on his shoulders, shrugged his shoulders until he was loose all over, but he could never match that same feeling that Jinki had. Jinki could make an entire nation fall at his feet with one lazy look as long as he had that smoke curling around his head like a crown.  
  
The discordant music of the menu screen jolted him out of his reverie. He had probably been staring at Jinki, could tell by the way Jinki’s eyes crinkled at the corners like he was laughing at Jonghyun. A strange sound erupted from Jonghyun’s mouth, a choked kind of embarrassed groan that he tried to disguise as clearing his throat and failed at miserably if Jinki’s chuckle was any indication.  
  
They started the game, picked back up where they’d left off and traded quips and anecdotes in between the sounds of gunfire and zombie screeches. Jonghyun had relaxed, had actually been able to lean forward, elbows braced on his knees and mind trained on the game instead of the lingering anxiety over whatever the hell it was that Jinki had wanted to talk about.  
  
He made a headshot, ran to back Jinki up, took a drag and let the smoke seep out of his nostrils like he was some kind of impressive fire breathing dragon. Jonghyun was actually enjoying himself, lost in the casual comfort of a good friend and a good smoke when Jinki smashed it all with a few words.  
  
“I’ve been thinking, you know.”  
  
“Oh yeah? ‘Bout what?” Jonghyun asked, voice dripping in fake disinterest to disguise the thumping of his poor, overworked heart.  
  
“About what you said about dating a friend,” Jinki said calmly, fingers moving effortlessly over the buttons of his controller. In contrast, Jonghyun felt like a bumbling fool, hands too stiff and twitchy to even hold his controller properly. He died, respawned, and made his way to Jinki’s character, heart thundering in his chest so hard he thought he was going to tip over and pass out. Why couldn’t he calm down?  
  
He made a strangled noise and prayed that Jinki wouldn’t notice it.  
  
“I think I might want to try it.”  
  
Jonghyun swore to god because he almost swallowed his cigarette.  
  
He pitched forward, controller clattering on the ground as his hands scrabbled in the air, coughing around the cigarette that had practically lodged itself in his throat from his violent inhale.  
  
“Damn it Jjong,” Jinki cried, voice hoarse with laughter as he thumped on Jonghyun’s back.  
  
Jonghyun pulled the cigarette from his mouth and stubbed it out in the ashtray. He must have ingested at least half of it or something, but he could hardly even think over the rushing in his ears.  
  
After what felt like minutes, Jonghyun’s hacking subsiding and he dropped his head in his hands, ignoring the amused but curious look Jinki had trained on him. Jinki’s hand was still heavy on his back, rubbing back and forth. Jonghyun knew the older boy hadn’t been talking about him, but still.  
  
What the fuck was that all about.  
  
“What the fuck was that all about?” It slipped out. He couldn’t help it.  
  
Jinki shrugged one shoulder, clearly entertained by Jonghyun’s shenanigans. His controller lay abandoned on the couch, tipped over on its side like a floppy puppy. Jinki’s own cigarette made its way back to his mouth, the smoke curling around his lips like a Cheshire grin and Jonghyun glared, knowing his own sat in a sad little lump on the table, devoid of any familiar comfort – like his mouth for instance.  
  
“It was just something I was thinking,” Jinki said eventually, cigarette burned down to a mere stub. He reached forward and stubbed it out next to Jonghyun’s. Well, at least it wasn’t alone anymore.  
  
“Okay,” Jonghyun said slowly. He hunched his shoulders forward, made himself into an armor of knees and elbows in the hollow of the couch cushions. “But…why?”  
  
Jinki’s eyes seemed to sparkle and a shot of unexplained nervousness shot through Jonghyun. A Mona Lisa smile crept its way across Jinki’s lips, mysterious and beautiful in the soft light of the room.  
  
“I think there’s someone I might like. I kinda want to see if they might like me back.”  
  
“Go…for it?” Jonghyun’s voice was high in confusion.  
  
He ducked his head down into his little armor covering, watching microscopic dust motes float through the air in the cracks of his shield. There was a long beat of silence, molasses-thick and warmer than the air that bounced back against Jonghyun’s face as he breathed against his legs.  
  
“I think everyone has a friend that they like, at some point or another.”  
  
That got Jonghyun’s head shooting up, his cocoon collapsing as his arms and legs broke out of place.  
  
“Eheh? What?”  
  
“Yeah.” Jinki’s voice was as casual as could be. “What about you?”  
  
“Me?”  
  
Jonghyun was reduced to one syllable sounds. All his words had left him, stolen away in one fell swoop and whisked off to hidden places. At this point, he wasn’t quite sure if they’d ever be returned.  
  
Jinki’s eyes locked on his, and even with the gentle look they held, it was like he’d been slammed into with the force of a tornado. He couldn’t turn away, couldn’t even shift his eyes to break eye contact, and it was like Jinki kept him in place with some sort of invisible shield.  
  
Jinki smiled. “Do you have a friend you like, Jonghyun?”  
  
“What are you talking about?” He laughed nervously, feeling an almost hysterical, comical, absurd wave of panic flow through him. “That’s crazy. Me?” The off-kilter laughter bubbled from him involuntarily, scraped its way up from his stomach and jumped out from his mouth, flapped around in the air like the snap of laundry in the wind.  
  
“No way, man. Not me, haha.” He turned back towards the TV mechanically, eyes wide and shaky. “Let’s kill some more zombies.”  
  
He felt like he’d just locked something away inside himself and felt chilled, even in the stifling heat. Hell yes, he was avoiding it. Whatever it was that he was avoiding, though, was so elusive that it slipped away from even his notice, buried itself somewhere deep in the recesses so far down that he couldn’t even hope to find it.  
  
For some reason, the only thing Jonghyun could focus on, even when the gunshots started back up again and Jinki went back to talking about something he’d read on the internet, were the tiny strains of chanting pushing through from the back of his mind,  _I don’t like him, I_ don’t _like him_.  
  
-  
  
Jonghyun curled up against Kibum, pushing his head back contently into Kibum’s thighs. The soft clattering of Kibum’s mother in the kitchen trickled through the crack underneath the door alongside the tap of Kibum’s nails on the screen of his phone. Jonghyun added to the rhythm, bouncing his leg against the side of the bed, mind keeping track of the time signature. He was just about to add a second melody when Kibum bopped him on the head almost absentmindedly.  
  
“You’re making the bed shake,” he said, not looking up from his phone. “Stop.”  
  
Jonghyun growled softly, the sound rumbling around in his chest as he pushed the crown of his head playfully into Kibum’s side. He shook his head like a wet dog, growling more loudly, yipping sharply before he turned and blew a huge raspberry against Kibum’s stomach.  
  
Kibum screeched, hands pushing at Jonghyun pointlessly; Jonghyun moved away, head thrown back with laughter as Kibum smacked his arm repeatedly and tried not to smile.  
  
“You freaking weirdo!” Kibum shrilled, grabbing hold of Jonghyun’s head and pushing his face into the mattress. His phone was forgotten on the bed beside him and Jonghyun considered this a job well done, even as Kibum sat on his back and messed up his hair.  
  
“Kibummie, don’t,” he whined, flailing his arms and kicking his legs uselessly, not really trying to dislodge the other boy. Eventually Kibum evidently decided that Jonghyun had had enough and he stilled, smacking Jonghyun’s head lightly with a small – but, Jonghyun would like to believe, affectionate –  _tsk_.  
  
They stayed like that after, Jonghyun somehow having morphed into another bed in Kibum’s eyes as he laid down on top of Jonghyun’s back and grabbed his phone once more. Jonghyun made pathetic whimpering noises until Kibum rolled his eyes and reached his arms down, shoving the phone in front of Jonghyun’s face. He had a video playing and they watched clip after clip until they both lost the feeling in their arms.  
  
Kibum rolled off him then, phone tossed somewhere onto the pillows above their heads, arms stretched high above him. His arms dropped suddenly, coming down across Jonghyun’s chest with a swift  _thump_  that knocked the air out of him for a second.  
  
“Why are you so abusive to me today?” His voice came out squeaky and demanding. “Why don’t you love me anymore?”  
  
Kibum fell into peals of laughter, Jonghyun’s high school girl voice a familiar routine to him. Jonghyun poked him, fingers wiggling threateningly as Kibum scrambled backwards, trying to get away before Jonghyun descended on him, tickling up and down his sides.  
  
When they were both worn out enough to have worked up an appetite (or – at least he did, anyway), Jonghyun hopped off the bed, chirping, “let’s go get something to eat”.  
  
Kibum hummed behind him and followed him out the door and down the stairs.  
  
Jonghyun liked going over to Kibum’s house because it was always air conditioned and Kibum’s mom always gave him food. Today was no exception, and when they walked into the kitchen, she patted Jonghyun on the shoulder and pointed him to the freshly cut watermelon chilling in the fridge.  
  
“Thanks, mom!” Jonghyun called as she walked out of the kitchen.  
  
An echoing,  _any time dear_  answered him.  
  
Jonghyun was sat at the table, fingers already sticky and mouth dripping juice onto the table. Kibum hung around the counter, filled up a glass with water and gulped it down before he sat across from Jonghyun.  
  
“Kibum, you want some of this?” Jonghyun asked, spitting a seed into a napkin.  
  
“No, not today.” Kibum said. He wouldn’t meet Jonghyun’s eyes and that was the first thing that really clicked in his head.  
  
Kibum was scratching at his arm absently, nails dragging back and forth across his skin. His tank top was close to falling off one shoulder, the open neck exposing the protruding collar bones that were more obvious in the kitchen light.  
  
“Kibum…”  
  
Kibum ducked his head, hand clenching over his arm. “Later. Just…not today.” He looked up and Jonghyun was stricken with a helplessness that squeezed his heart.  
  
“Okay?”  
  
Jonghyun swallowed, feeling like he was eating tar instead of watermelon.  
  
“Yeah…yeah, okay.”  
  
Silence roared through the kitchen. Jonghyun pushed what was left of his watermelon around on his napkin, the juice soaking through it and making the table sticky. He felt like a weight was attached to his heart, dragging it down, out of place. Kibum’s feet shuffled under the table, bare toes whispering across the tile floor until he bumped them against Jonghyun’s ankle.  
  
“Let’s go back upstairs,” he said quietly.  
  
Jonghyun nodded, cleaned up his place as best he could with a few quick swipes of a clean napkin, and followed Kibum glumly up to his room.  
Kibum was laid out on his bed, curled in on himself and back to the door when Jonghyun walked in. Jonghyun could see his phone back up, in front of his face like a shield.  
  
“Kibum,” he called softly as he closed the door.  
  
The other boy ignored him, fingers moving against the screen once more.  
  
“Come on, don’t shut me out again,” he pleaded quietly, moving to sit next to Kibum’s frozen form.  
  
But Kibum still didn’t say anything, didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, Jonghyun thought.  
  
He sighed.  
  
“Hey, Key.”  
  
“Hey! Leave that name in high school where it belongs!”  
  
Ah. That did it.  
  
Jonghyun smiled before schooling his face back into something stern and serious.  
  
“No can do, Key,” he said, voice as sympathetic and sugary as he could make it. “You see, my friend Kibum seems to be sad. Can you help me make him feel better, Key?”  
  
Kibum had his face buried in the sheets, his whole body cringing with embarrassment.  
  
“Oh god, I was so stupid back then,” he moaned dramatically, fists curling into a pillow. “Why the hell did I let anyone call me that?”  
  
“You  _made_  us,” Jonghyun said cheerfully. Kibum rolled over, flailing like an octopus in some misguided attempt to make Jonghyun shut up.  
  
Jonghyun laid down beside him and Kibum instantly stilled, closing off just a bit more once again. Jonghyun moved in close, propped his chin on Kibum’s chest and stared at him, fingers wrapped loosely around Kibum’s arm.  
  
“Sorry, alley cat,” he said softly, eyes boring into Kibum’s.  
  
He hated it when Kibum got like this, hated it even more when he was the one to do it to him. He tilted his head a little, staring at Kibum until the other boy looked away.  
  
“Your fingers are sticky,” Kibum muttered. “Get them off my arm.” But he squeezed Jonghyun’s hand before he rolled away.  
  
Jonghyun interpreted that as  _it’s okay, it’s not your fault, I’ll be okay_. In celebration, he rocked back before rolling forward, launching himself on Kibum in a full body hug.  
  
“When are we going for our picnic?” He whispered against Kibum’s ear, arms and legs locked around him in a tight vice.  
  
Kibum huffed and then his arms were winding around Jonghyun’s waist.  
  
“Soon,” Kibum said, forehead knocking into his. Jonghyun took that as a good sign. “I promise.”


	3. Chapter 3

The red numbers of the clock hit seven AM before Jonghyun’s body finally accepted sleep. Unfortunately, this sleep was short lived and he only managed about three hours before his eyes were wearily cracking open once more.  
  
Sleep used to be easy, once.  
  
Then something or other must have shifted in his mind, his body, because he was plagued with endless waves of anxiety and worry, and slowly it was becoming difficult to reach even six, five, four hours of sleep a night. The heat didn’t make it any easier, smothering him for hours on end so much so that his worn out body couldn’t even fall asleep despite the fact that he averaged barely more than two hours a night.  
  
And then, when he was finally able to slip away at the time when some people were only just waking up, his mind churned into action, thoughts grinding away incessantly in his head until it wasn’t even worth it to try anymore, body too tired to even try lying in bed anymore. He would get up then, slogging throughout the rest of the morning until the restless energy kicked in and his body functioned half on autopilot and half out of a resigned sense that his body had adapted to running without sleep.  
  
Jonghyun’s heart was pounding and a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. He wasn’t unused to the act of waking up like this, with his body already strung tight and nerves buzzing with fire. But this was different. Different in a way that was humiliating and made him feel like a pathetic little kid.  
  
He woke up to a raging hard-on straining against dirty sheets and, amongst a jumble of blurred colors, a crystal clear image of Minho’s face.  
  
He dropped a hand against his face (slapped it more than anything else, really), and rubbed it tiredly, trying to push the red out of his cheeks as if it would do anything; he was alone in his room anyway. Jonghyun turned over on his side, steadfastly ignoring anything happening below his waist, and irately pushed his sheets off.  
  
The room was sweltering, sweat built up behind his knees and at the back of his neck, and Jonghyun was disgusted with himself. Wet dreams at his fucking age. Ridiculous. The heat already made everything muggy and uncomfortable already, and now he had to deal with the mess inside both his boxers and his head. No – there was nothing wrong inside his head.  
  
People had stupid, random dreams like that all the time and it didn’t mean anything. But it was still too damn hot to have to deal with anything else. His body ached, back tight with knots, and he was still tense. Jonghyun had been lying in bed, completely still, mind blank, for over half an hour and he still couldn’t calm down. He felt sick and he hadn’t even realized it until just now. Stupid. Fucking stupid.  
  
Pushing the pads of his thumbs into the space between his brows, Jonghyun tried to massage away the headache. It was too damn early for any of this.  
  
With a sigh, he rose from the bed and flipped the light switch. Even with the lights on, the room was dim, for all the good it did. He snagged a fresh pair of boxers and headed to the bathroom, trying not to notice the uncomfortable and incriminating stickiness between his legs.  
  
Minho was in the kitchen when Jonghyun walked in, sitting at the table ladling spoonful after spoonful of cereal into his mouth.  
  
He looked up when Jonghyun made his way in, did a double take as his spoon hovered in the air, half way forgotten on its journey to his mouth. Jonghyun could imagine the state he was in: sleepy eyed, face covered in a light sheen of sweat, messy haired and only wearing a tank top and boxers. It was probably just as pretty as what he saw in the mirror. (Meaning: not at all.)  
  
Jonghyun waved at him and willed his feet to take him over to the refrigerator. He could feel Minho’s eyes on him the whole time, burning hard into his back, and he felt like acid was trying to climb its way up his throat.  
  
“’Sup,” he croaked.  
  
“You okay?” Minho asked, eyeing him weirdly.  
  
“Just perfect.”  
  
Jonghyun just wanted to sleep.  
  
-  
  
The summer kept up its continuing record of triple digit temperatures, seemingly challenging itself to raise the number each day just another couple degrees. Jonghyun was sweating all the way from his bones and it almost wasn’t even worth it to stay inside because no matter what they did it didn’t seem to stave the heat in the slightest. So of course they did the logical thing and went outside.  
  
“It’s hot as balls,” Kibum muttered, fanning himself with his hand.  
  
“Yeah, remind me again why the hell we’re out here instead of at your house?” Taemin mocked, face scrunched up.  
  
Kibum tossed a handful of grass at him. “Our air conditioner broke, you little shit.”  
  
Taemin just pitched a handful back at him and war was silently declared.  
  
Jonghyun groaned and flopped backwards, grass raining down across his stomach as his head hit Jinki’s legs. He looked up, Jinki’s pink-cheeked face, shaded in the brim of his hat, smiling back down at him. He gave a slow grin back and hiked up his shirt, trying to release as much heat from his body as possible.  
  
“Gross,” Taemin teased as he sprinkled grass onto Jonghyun’s bare stomach.  
  
“Are you kidding me,” Jonghyun deadpanned back, leveling him with a weak glare but too drained to brush it off. The blades of grass stuck to his sweat slicked body, an itchy prickling patch against his skin.  
  
Jonghyun’s eyes slipped closed as a rush of dizziness washed over him. God, he needed to sleep. He was seriously contemplating sleeping, right then and there, in the middle of the grass and the heat and the lazy lullaby of conversation flittering over his head. But then a rustle of leaves caught his attention, dragged his eyes open and made them drift upwards, past Jinki and up into the tree.  
  
He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing, the world a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that he couldn’t make sense of. And then he blinked and it all slipped into focus, the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the tree, fading in and out of the air as Minho’s swinging legs shook the branches.  
  
Minho had climbed up there ages ago, declared that he was going to take a nap where it was cooler ( _heat rises, you dumbass_ , Kibum had called after him, Minho’s head already having disappeared in the leaves). Jonghyun didn’t know if he’d fallen asleep – Minho, himself – he honestly couldn’t really remember much of what was going on, what had happened since they got to the rundown park, since he woke up, really.  
  
He watched Minho’s legs swing, slowly, calmly, steadily, back and forth like a metronome, tick tick tick tick, until his eyes were falling back out of focus and everything blurred together again. Jonghyun’s eyes were swimming, looping lazy circles around his brain and his head swayed, rocked against Jinki’s leg as he tried to keep a hold on his consciousness.  
  
“Hey.” Jinki’s voice was as soft as the hand lightly patting Jonghyun’s cheek. “Jonghyun.”  
  
Jonghyun opened his eyes and squinted, trying to keep a steady hold on Jinki’s face.  
  
“How’ve you been sleeping?”  
  
Jonghyun laughed, the alarmed look on Jinki’s face causing him to sloppily slap a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles. “I haven’t.”  
  
“Jonghyun…”  
  
He knew that Jinki was worried – hell, Jonghyun probably should have been worried about himself too – but he’d been living like this for too long to really be phased by it anymore. Sometimes it was bad, sometimes it was really bad, and sometimes it was okay. (And then, very occasionally, when the planets all aligned, it was good). Recently it just happened to be really bad.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, hyung,” Jonghyun said, reaching back to pat Jinki’s arm as best he could. He missed a little, but he got it eventually. “I’ll probably crash soon. I just have to wait until then. It’ll be fine.”  
  
Jinki shook his head but kept his lips pressed tightly together. He’d seen Jonghyun go through this routine of sleeplessness, passing out, lather rinse repeat, for years now. It didn’t make it any easier to sit through, Jonghyun knew, but there was no other choice. Jinki had been by his side as he tried everything in the book: aroma therapy, relaxation techniques, exhaustion, sleeping pill after sleeping pill until he just gave up. Nothing worked, so all that was left was to just ride it out.  
  
(It helped, though, having people by him as he struggled through it. Jinki was there to steady him when he stumbled, and stumble he did.)  
  
A shout broke through their lackadaisical bubble, the sound rushing in and setting their nerves on edge. The hushed rustling of leaves from above quieted and Jinki tensed beneath Jonghyun’s head, the muscles in his leg becoming firm, coiled.  
  
Jonghyun sat up, ignoring the way the world pitched on its side. A group of four guys walked up to where they were splayed out, machismo radiating from every inch of them as they kicked up dirt beneath their boots. Who the fuck wore boots in heat like this, what the fuck was wrong with them? Jonghyun dragged his eyes up from their feet slowly, stopping on the leader’s face in the moment that they stopped in front of the shady tree Jonghyun was trying not to pass out under.  
  
“Which one of you’s Jonghyun?” the leader asked. He was some stocky guy, a pug-like face buried behind a frizzy crop of hair.  
  
“’S me,” Jonghyun answered, climbing to his feet with a great deal more bravado than he actually felt. Today wasn’t ideal for a fight, but he could already feel the adrenaline coursing through him, shaking the cobwebs from his addled head.  
  
“Jonghyun, are you sure?” Jinki asked in his ear, worry thick in his voice.  
  
Jonghyun waved a hand at him and focused on the group in front of them.  
  
“You broke two of my brother’s ribs, you asshole,” he snarled. He pushed into Jonghyun’s face, staring down at him threateningly as his chest bumped into Jonghyun’s.  
  
“Yeah?” He was nonchalant as he scratched behind an ear. “He probably deserved it, then.”  
  
The guy twisted his fist into the front of Jonghyun’s shirt and then –  
  
“Oh, fuck.”  
  
Jonghyun looked over. Jinki pulled his hands away from his face, revealing the blood dripping down his chin and soaking into the front of his shirt. God damn it. Jinki had always been sensitive to the heat and he’d get massive, spontaneous nosebleeds whenever the air got too dry, too hot. It had been happening on and off all summer and, apparently, now was another one of those times.  
  
One of the guys in the back laughed, his voice cutting through the air like a hyena’s cackle.  
  
“Really? You’re bleeding already?” He walked forward, jeering. Jinki had given up trying to stifle the blood flow and kept his head forward leisurely. “We ain’t even hit you yet.”  
  
And then Jinki’s head snapped up and, quick as a whip, his knuckles buried themselves in the guy’s nose. He took a crack at Jinki, so Jinki took a crack at him and he bled to match, red erupting from his nose in a violent spurt.  
  
The hand that had fisted in Jonghyun’s shirt tightened, its owner remembering where he was, and Jonghyun pulled back sharply as he dodged a punch from its twin. He was pretty sure the world flipped itself upside down momentarily, but by the time he’d straightened up once more it didn’t really matter. Jonghyun didn’t have boots on, so his three year old chucks would have to do the job.  
  
He kicked out, catching the guy in the pelvis. With his hand still gripping Jonghyun’s shirt, Jonghyun stumbled forward with him as the guy lost his balance, toppling backwards into the grass. Jonghyun’s wrist was jarred a little as he hit the ground, a sharp pain shooting up his forearm briefly before he shook it out and pushed himself to his feet. With his muddled head, being anywhere near the ground was probably not the best option.  
  
Jonghyun flitted in and out of realization for the next few minutes. He could hear shoes scuffing against the ground and the muted grunts of the people around him. He couldn’t tell if it was from his friends or the other guys. The solid impact of knuckles on skin rang the clearest, sounding all around him like the thundering of drums.  
  
He was not doing so good. Jonghyun’s vision swam as he sloppily dodged another punch and it clipped the edge of his jaw like a streaking bullet. His adrenaline was still running high but with the lack of sleep and his inability to focus, it was just making everything hyper-real, too bright and fast to catch properly.  
  
Someone grabbed a hold of the back of his shirt and Jonghyun shook his head, trying to get a hold of himself as he swung around. The collar of his shirt was twisted against his neck, almost choking him, and he lost balance as his captor pulled forward. He went down.  
  
Huddled in the dirt and prepared for the inevitable, Jonghyun braced himself for an impact that never came.  
  
“Shit!”  
  
The shout drew his attention, his eyes flying open to see a body standing above him, bracketed by sunlight. Jonghyun blinked, straining against the light to see who it was that had smashed the teeth of the guy who’d brought Jonghyun down. The guy from the other gang was cradling his jaw, teeth covered in red as he spit a wad of blood into the dirt.  
  
The person in front of Jonghyun lifted his leg, the long limb flying out and catching the bloodied boy in front of him in the stomach. Then, as he was turning around, Jonghyun felt another pair of hands on his shoulders, sleeves practically ripping off as he was dragged backwards.  _Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me_ , he thought.  
  
It was the leader again, back from wherever the hell he’d gone when Jonghyun had gotten knocked down by one of his members. Pain bloomed across Jonghyun’s shoulder. Dazedly, he realized that he’d been kicked and he should probably move if he didn’t want it to happen again, but instead he fell back into the dirt, eyes refusing to uncross.  
  
 _This is fucking bullshit_ , raced through his panicked mind as he managed to bring his arms up in time to block a hit to hit face.  
  
His arms took a beating, punch after punch trying to break through his feeble barricade to get to the grand prize. Jonghyun thought of trying to shake the guy off, unbalance him enough so that Jonghyun could stand up and really fight him but it seemed useless. Jonghyun was weak, his body faulting under the lack of sleep harder than it usually did and there was nothing he could do but defend.  
  
When the guy finally got the bright idea to pull his arms away, Jonghyun squeezed his eyes shut, head turned away in anticipation of the hit that would come. But this one didn’t either. His stomach clenched as the guy sitting on him was dragged off and thrown into the dirt next to him.  
  
Dirt flew into his eyes and he rubbed at them hastily. By the time he’d cleared them up enough to see, the guy had rolled his attacker over into the dirt and they were struggling against each other. Through their arms, Jonghyun caught a flash of a green tank top and suddenly realized who had been standing before him, a sense of déjà vu whipping through him as he watched Minho’s back get slammed into the ground.  
  
They wrestled each other, Minho being taller ( _and probably stronger_ , Jonghyun mused) but losing against the leverage that the stockier leader had. His back was pressed into the ground, scraping against the dirt and rocks and twigs as he fought to gain the upper hand. Jonghyun could see a fierce look on his face, defiant and protective and something surged through him, shook him all the way down to the marrow of his bones when he thought that look was maybe, just maybe, because of him.  
  
Minho managed to get a knee up between them and pushed, catapulting the leader backwards and into a bench. His head hit the metal with an uncomfortable clang. By this time, his members had been worn down, racing to his side to pull him up and away as they scuttled off with bitter glares directed back at them.  
Everyone was a little worse for wear but Jonghyun didn’t see any serious injuries right off the bat and figured everything else could be dealt with later. Jonghyun stared at the sky blearily, not a cloud in sight to block the harsh sun or hide his beaten pride. He should have done better; he was their leader and he couldn’t even fight for them for god’s sake.  
  
A hand appeared in front of his face and Jonghyun swiped a hand across his eyes before he grabbed it and was hauled up. Minho smiled at him, cracked lips split with thin lines of blood. Jonghyun’s legs were weak as he shook the dirt from his hair, roughly smacking the dust off his jeans.  
  
“Thanks, man,” he muttered.  
  
Minho paused, hesitation marking his large frame before he breathed out and brushed off Jonghyun’s back, a calm smile still playing across his lips.  
  
“No problem.”  
  
They gathered themselves up and wandered away aimlessly, leaving behind blood-speckled dirt and crushed grass. Almost nothing had changed. On their way back into civilization, Jinki, Kibum, and Taemin cut away to get food, waving them off with dirt smeared faces and cut lips. But they looked happy enough and Jonghyun guessed that his failure today hadn’t shaken their confidence in him, even if it had made him feel worthless.  
  
Minho was quiet as they walked, like he usually was, but somehow this was more stifling. Jonghyun wished he’d say something, anything –  _you really dropped the ball today, hyung. Guess I was the one to save you this time, huh? What should we make for dinner?_  As long as he said something, Jonghyun could ignore the crushing agitation snapping at him from all sides.  
  
Jonghyun was toeing his shoes off at the door when Minho finally murmured, “it’s not your fault, you know.”  
  
Jonghyun watched his back as he walked away. What the fuck.  
  
He found Minho in the bathroom, door open as he pulled up the back of his shirt to inspect his back in the mirror. Jonghyun leaned on the doorframe, surveying him with a critical eye.  
  
“What do you mean it’s not my fault?” He asked, watching Minho struggle to see the full extent of the damage.  
  
“I mean,” Minho said, dropping his shirt back down and tugging at the collar to look at a raised welt on his neck. “That you did what you could today.”  
  
Jonghyun grit his teeth, about to snap back when Minho continued. “And that’s good enough for us, hyung.”  
  
His hands clenched into fists. “Get out here,” he barked.  
  
Confused, Minho stepped out of the bathroom but Jonghyun pushed his way inside, rifling under the sink to grab a small cardboard box. Cocking his head, he signaled for Minho to follow him out to the living room, making a short detour to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. He sat down on the couch, back against the arm of it and legs pulled up. The box was nestled in the circle of his legs, stuffed to the brim with gauze and anti-bacterial wipes.  
  
This was their version of a first aid kit. It was cheap and had to be restocked just about every other month but it worked for them.  
  
Minho stood beside him, clearly still not grasping the situation if the vacant look on his face was any indication.  
  
“Sit down and take off your shirt,” Jonghyun commanded, already pulling out a clean cloth from the box. He grabbed the water bottle and pressed it into the wash cloth as Minho finally got it, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the coffee table.  
  
He sat in front of Jonghyun, broad back littered with scrapes and welts; long, angry lines zigzagging across his skin like lightning strikes. Jonghyun whistled lowly, bringing the cool cloth to Minho’s back.  
  
“Jeez, what the hell. He really did a number on your back.”  
  
“Yeah?” Minho asked, looking over his shoulder.  
  
Jonghyun nudged his face forward again. “Yeah. Looks like a freaking scratching post back here.”  
  
The rest of his back wasn’t as badly affected as the uncovered, unprotected skin of his shoulders. They were scraped up badly, congealed blood clotting in ugly shapes in the dips of his shoulder blades, dirt getting caught in the edges. Jonghyun winced. Minho was like this because Jonghyun couldn’t fight well enough to protect himself, or any of them apparently.  
  
He cleaned the worst of the blood away, wetting the washcloth with more water as it slowly dyed the cloth a pink color. He wiped it over the rest of Minho’s back lightly, trying not to agitate any of the shallow cuts. It came away discolored with dirt and blood when he was finished, but Jonghyun couldn’t see any dirt stuck in any of the cuts so he figured everything would be fine.  
  
Pulling out two of the wipes, Jonghyun ripped one open and ran it over his hands. It bit at him as he wiped the dirt from his skin. Ripping open the other one, he warned, “this is going to sting” before he pressed it against Minho’s skin.  
  
Minho sucked in air sharply through his teeth, the sound cutting through the room. Jonghyun could see his jaw working and he tried to clean up as quickly as possible. He crumpled the thin wipe, tossed it on the table, and pulled out a tube of antibiotic. Better safe than sorry.  
  
Popping the cap, Jonghyun could see Minho tense again, probably expecting another shock of pain to hit his back. Jonghyun squeezed the amorphous substance onto his hands and pressed the cool gel against Minho’s skin gently, apologetically trying to soothe the sting. Minho’s back relaxed beneath his hands. Jonghyun rubbed the antibiotic into Minho’s skin, working it lightly against the cuts so that they wouldn’t reopen. The room was quiet, only their steady breathing audible as Jonghyun’s hands passed over Minho’s back. When he finished, he tapped Minho’s shoulders to get him to turn around.  
  
“Let’s take a look at that face now,” he said, grabbing Minho’s face between his hands, angling him this way and that so that he could get a better look.  
  
Minho laughed, hands coming up to cover Jonghyun’s. “Hyung,” he chuckled. “I can do my face myself.”  
  
“Nope!” Jonghyun said cheerily. “I’ve already got you here. I’m finishing.”  
  
He pressed a cotton ball against the lip of the bottle and wet it. “Doctor’s orders,” he said, gently rubbing the cotton ball against a cut underneath Minho’s eye.  
  
Minho made this difficult by crinkling his eyes in silent laughter, an easy smile playing on his lips. But Jonghyun could work past that – he had a patient to take care of, after all.  
  
-  
  
They didn’t fight dirty. They weren’t about the whole knives and chains bullshit that some people tried to come at them with. Jonghyun had never touched a gun. He had a utility knife he kept on his keychain but he wasn’t going to use something like that in a fight, only kept it for convenience and tight spots. He preferred to let his fists do the talking and if some guy pulled a knife on any of them you could be sure as hell that they’d book it right out of there without a second thought. They liked to fight but they weren’t fucking stupid and no way in hell were they going to jail over something as stupid as that.  
  
Taemin used to have long coppery hair that he kept tied back when they fought. It was almost like his symbol: a long, silky, red mane that cut through the air like a whip as he dashed and dodged. His long bangs had fallen messily into his eyes, mysterious, dangerous, sexy. Everyone knew him by that hair, like the flick of it was his calling card.  
  
But when a guy from another gang grabbed hold of his hair and pulled a switchblade tight against Taemin's neck that changed. Scared out of his mind, Taemin came back the next day, hair chopped too short to pull into a ponytail. He hadn't kept it long since.  
  
Taemin had regained his broken spirit, fought back harder than he had before as his hair faded back to black. He was like wildfire, his energy blazing with every step he took. He didn’t need the flashy hair anymore; just the way he walked did the trick now. He missed it sometimes, even if it usually had been a ratty mess most of the time. It had been one of the first things he’d ever done for himself, no matter how bad of a decision it had turned out to be.  
  
There was one good thing to his hair being kept shorter, though – at least now his dad couldn’t grab hold of it either.  
  
-  
  
“Truth or dare?”  
  
“Really, Kibum?” Minho raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Hey, I’m bored as fuck over here and none of you are talking.” Kibum looked around the room threateningly. “Truth of dare?”  
  
After a beat of silence, Jinki said, “truth.”  
  
“How old were you when you had your first kiss?”  
  
“Are we really starting off with the fourth grade questions?” Jonghyun muttered, eyes still glued to his phone.  
  
Ignoring him, Jinki calmly answered, “fourteen”, his voice not giving anything away. Taemin let out a low whistle.  
  
Jinki’s eyes locked on him. “Truth or dare?”  
  
“Dare,” Taemin said, not missing a beat.  
  
“Go commando for the rest of the night.”  
  
“Done and done.” Taemin stood up and made his way down to the bathroom. Jinki and Minho were already chuckling but when Taemin came back, hands suspiciously empty, it was Jonghyun who was howling with laughter.  
  
Taemin gave a saucy smile and sat back down.  
  
“Jonghyun hyung,” Taemin said, lounging back against the arm of the couch. The little shit had his legs spread wide, comfortably reminding the rest of the room of his current state of dress. “Truth or dare?”  
  
Jonghyun raised an eyebrow. “Dare.”  
  
That was kind of a dangerous choice when it was Taemin doing the daring, but Jonghyun felt like he wanted to be a little dangerous tonight.  
  
“Go give Minho hyung a lap dance.”  
  
Jonghyun was taken aback for approximately 0.35 seconds before he shrugged and stood up, sashaying his way over to Minho in the most exaggerated way he could muster. Try as he might, Minho couldn’t keep a straight face when Jonghyun approached him, amused smile sneaking onto his lips as Jonghyun slapped his hands on Minho’s shoulders.  
  
“Can’t a guy get some music up in here?” He demanded, and within seconds Kibum’s phone was playing a sultry rhythm for him to follow.  
  
“You ready for this, big boy?” He murmured in his greasiest voice, throwing an over-the-top wink in Minho’s direction.  
  
He wasn’t going to take this seriously. They were just having fun and besides, Jonghyun liked to play up to the attention thrown his way as he did excessive body rolls and threw out disgusting flying kisses. And as he shook his hips, sliding a hand dramatically over Minho’s stomach, it was worth it to see Minho laugh so brightly.  
  
When the short song came to a close, Jonghyun dipped into a low bow, one hand flying out to the side as he accepted the “applause” from his friends.  
  
“Okay, Kibummie,” he said as he sank back down into his own seat instead of Minho’s lap. “Truth or dare?”  
  
They played for a while, the dares getting stupider and the truths getting more embarrassing. It was all pretty par for the course among a group as close knit as them. They all knew each other too well to really push any boundaries they knew shouldn’t be crossed, but that didn’t stop them from toeing a few lines.  
  
“Jonghyun.” Kibum leveled him with a sly stare.  
  
“Dare.”  
  
Jonghyun had sensed a theme running through Kibum’s questions since the beginning but had decided to keep quiet on it; if he brought it up, he’d be put in the line of fire and he was riding easy – he wanted to keep it that way.  
  
It seemed he wasn’t going to be so lucky. Kibum was nothing if not consistent.  
  
“Put your hands on the body part you admire the most on someone else.”  
  
Jonghyun froze for a second, a list of things running through his head. There were images flashing rapid fire behind his eyes, skin skin skin, but it was the muscles that rolled to a stop in his mind, sirens blaring as he fought the heat that tried to rise to his cheeks. So he was a guy that liked to work out, no big deal. He could admire another guy’s muscles, be jealous of the definition there that Jonghyun still had to work on.  
  
He stood up, face blank as he walked over. If they watched him, they probably wouldn’t notice the uneven way he walked. Not like it mattered – this was just admiration, nothing more.  
  
Jonghyun stood in front of a shocked Minho and lifted his hands, planting them firmly against his chest.  
  
“Truth or dare?” Taemin scoffed a moment later. “More like: how gay can you be with your best friend without it getting weird.”  
  
“Shut up, Taemin,” Minho grunted, voice tight. Jonghyun could feel Minho’s heartbeat pounding away steadily against his palm.  
  
His hands slipped away a second later and he turned on his heel, dropped down into his seat and finally unclenched his jaw.  
  
“So!” He exclaimed, forced indifference coating his voice. “Who’s next?”  
  
They had some more dumb dares ( _take a shot, spin around, and say the first pick up line that comes to mind with whoever you make eye contact with_ ) and some even dumber questions ( _when did you stop wetting the bed?_ ). When it circled back around to Kibum, he already had a target picked out.  
  
“Minho.”  
  
“Truth.”  
  
“Who here do you want to kiss the most?” The question was ready on Kibum’s tongue, waiting to jump off like a lick of fire.  
  
But with the way Minho shifted uncomfortably, something in the air shifted with him. Electricity was crackling through the room and suddenly everyone was alert, all eyes and ears on Minho as they waited for his answer.  
  
“I…”  
  
Kibum’s lips pursed and he stared at Minho expectantly. There was no way Minho was getting out of this.  
  
“I mean. Well.” He was floundering. “I don’t  _actually_  want to kiss him. But…”  
  
Minho’s eyes darted back and forth across all of them nervously. There was a light blush sitting high on his cheeks and Jonghyun could see the tips of his ears starting to turn red. Minho’s eyes locked with his for a moment before he broke away, but Jonghyun sat frozen, heart stopped in his chest.  
  
“I guess – if I had to choose –” Minho cut off and shifted again, looking away from all of them.  
  
“Jonghyun,” he finally mumbled.  
  
It felt like a whoosh of air was knocked out of Jonghyun, like he’d been sucker punched in the gut. He was almost seeing stars as a rush of dizziness swept over him, zipping all the way down to his fingertips as he stared at the top of Minho’s head.  
  
He was broken out of it once all the whooping and hollering started, cat calls sounding from all sides. Minho’s head snapped up and he cursed them all out, adding more fuel to the fire. Jonghyun tried to roll with it, tried to pull the focus away from the actual matter at hand (“ _who wouldn’t want to kiss me?”_ He crowed. “ _Look at these lips_ ”). But there was something heavy sitting in his gut, threatening to crawl its way up into his throat and strangle him.  
  
Minho grew quiet and that was when the teasing stopped. Things got weird after that, a little too tense from all sides even though everyone was clearly trying to act like something unspoken actually hadn’t clicked into and out of place right before their eyes. It wasn’t a big deal or anything – why would any of them care? Why would Jonghyun care? He didn’t care. Not one bit. But even so, Jonghyun thanked his lucky stars when Taemin got Kibum back, just before they called it a night.  
  
“Do you spit or swallow?”  
  
Kibum choked, saliva caught in his throat as he coughed violently at the unexpected question.  
  
“Hmm. Must be “spit” then,” Taemin said, examining his nails.  
  
And that was that.  
  
-  
  
Jonghyun was seventeen the first time he saw the rows of long, thin cuts on the inside of Kibum’s thighs. He had gone over to Kibum’s house to spend the night and was lounging on his bed, reading a comic book when he glanced over. Kibum had been changing out of his uniform and he had pulled down his pants. Normally Jonghyun wouldn’t have cared much, he might have been a little embarrassed but really, they were two guys and it didn’t really matter if he saw his friend getting undressed because he was cool with that kind of thing.  
  
But he’d seen the thin lines on Kibum’s thighs, peeking out just below the hem of his boxers and, if he was honest with himself, it had scared him. It had scared him so much that he couldn’t bring himself to ask Kibum about it until two weeks later when he patted Kibum’s leg and the other boy flinched in pain. And then it rushed out of him, the dam broken, and he couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice.  
  
It had taken Kibum a long time to open up to him and finally tell Jonghyun about it. He squeezed Jonghyun’s hand as he told him about how he’d taken one of the blades out of his razor and the plate he pushed away during dinner. And Jonghyun had squeezed his hand back as Kibum rolled up his shorts and showed Jonghyun, up close and personal, just how many lines he had scratched into his skin.  
  
Jonghyun was the first person to know that sometimes Kibum hated himself so much that he couldn’t even look in the mirror.  
  
He tried to help Kibum, but sometimes a friend just wasn’t enough to make your head stop screaming at you. So the best he could do is distract him, just try to make him forget for a little while, and every once in a while he was successful. Kibum had thanked him, kept thanking him for what he knew Jonghyun was trying to do for him, and in return, he had Jonghyun watch as he threw out his blades, broke his scale into a hundred pieces, and finally held himself up with confidence. (That confidence wasn’t always real, but it was a start.)  
  
Jonghyun pulled up in front of Kibum’s house and honked the horn twice, two sharp blasts, while he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Kibum came out of the house, jacket thrown over his shoulder and sunglasses already perched on his face, looking every bit the picture of the glamorous and bold person that everyone thought he was.  
  
Jonghyun smiled, waved to him as Kibum walked up to his car, but the smile slipped off his face as Kibum got closer.  
  
Kibum was wearing longer shorts again and Jonghyun's heart dropped.  
  
“Kibum,” he said quietly, brokenly. Kibum wouldn't look at him.  
  
With a shuttered sigh, Jonghyun pulled away from the curb and drove. They sat in silence as Jonghyun drove away from the city, breezing along the coast with the sound of the wind and the radio to fill in for the words that should have been there. Jonghyun’s hands were tight against the wheel as he tried to think of what to say. This shouldn’t have been so hard.  
  
“Not today, Jjong,” Kibum said quietly, laying a hand on Jonghyun’s arm. He could feel the way Kibum’s fingers trembled. “Okay? Tomorrow. We can talk about it tomorrow. Just…not today.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jonghyun said, breathing out. “Okay.”  
  
The ocean came into view, blue sparkling underneath a hazy layer of grey. It was cloudy, the sun fighting desperately to filter through and failing miserably, but the air was brisk and salty and calm as Jonghyun pulled up along the shoulder of the road. He shook himself out and climbed out of the car, opening the back door to grab the basket he’d put their lunch in.  
  
“Really? You actually did it?” Kibum asked from the other side of the car as he spotted it.  
  
Jonghyun grinned at him. “Of course.”  
  
“You hopeless romantic,” Kibum said, shaking his head. But the tension was lifted and Jonghyun could breathe easier again.  
  
They found a cozy spot up on a cliff, atop a craggy rock face surrounded by the ocean. Kibum pulled his jacket around himself as the walked out near the edge, stopped a far enough distance away that neither of them would feel like falling off but close enough that they still felt like they were sitting in the sky. Jonghyun laid a blanket out in the grass and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, sitting down when Jonghyun made a humble, sweeping gesture like a prince.  
  
Even with the basket beside them, they sat in unmoving silence, watching the waves crash before them, pushing and pulling against the horizon. Kibum leaned against Jonghyun, his head dropping onto Jonghyun’s shoulder. Jonghyun brought an arm up around him, tucking him in close to his side as he laid his head on top of Kibum’s.  
  
“Thanks for bringing me out here.” Kibum’s voice was so quiet it was almost lost in the sea.  
  
“Hey,” Jonghyun said, squeezing Kibum close. “Of course. Who else would I bring?”  
  
Kibum mumbled something that Jonghyun didn’t catch.  
  
“Kibum.” Jonghyun became serious. “Really. I’m glad you’re here with me. It’s been too long.”  
  
“It has,” Kibum sighed as he closed his eyes. “I’m so glad we’re out of the town, even for a little while. It’s so suffocating sometimes.”  
  
“I know what you mean.”  
  
Jonghyun stared out at the water, eyes going fuzzy as he lost himself. It was nice to go away for a bit, especially if you knew you had somewhere to go back to. But everything had felt so...complicated, so  _heavy_  lately that he didn’t know what he would have done with himself if he’d had to stay. Kibum always got that about him, because he was the same.  
  
The cuts on his thighs were the proof that he needed to get away sometimes, too. But Jonghyun had hoped at least that part would have stopped. He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t talk about it today, but wishing that he could anyway.  
  
Instead, he squeezed Kibum once more and pulled over the basket, passing a sandwich to Kibum. Kibum’s grateful smile lightened his heart and Jonghyun swore that tomorrow they’d talk and he’d do everything he could to keep the smile on Kibum’s face instead of that sad look.  
  
-  
  
Jonghyun buried his fist in the guy’s face just seconds before he felt the first drop. And then, all at once, the clouds hurtled in and the previously clear sky grew dark, opened itself up, and let loose. Thick, fat drops started raining down hard, striking like pieces of hail they were so heavy, and the guys from the other gang began scrambling.  
  
They were new; young guys who wanted to prove themselves and thought that they were the strongest just because. Jonghyun hadn’t been fighting seriously, none of them had been, it was just an easy little fight to blow off some steam and have some fun but it had still gotten messy. At the first roll of thunder, the other gang fled, picking themselves and sprinting off like the crack of lightning was the starting gun.  
  
But this was when they came alive, spirits shooting to life as water poured down all around them. Jinki tackled Jonghyun playfully, knocking him down into the mushy ground and the rest of the boys quickly followed, dog piling on them even as the sky darkened.  
  
Jonghyun could feel the energy crackling in him, electric like the light in the sky. He could tell they all felt it too, from Jinki’s powerful movements to Taemin’s wild smile, Kibum’s bright, sharp eyes, and the way Minho’s hair was whipped up by the wind, fluttering around his face like he could control the earth with a twitch of his fingertips. This was where Jonghyun felt at home.  
  
The air was coursing through them, just as turbulent as it was outside, and it wasn’t long before they were shouting and smiling, pushing each other as they broke out into a run down the streets. Jonghyun felt happy – knew they felt it too – even though the rain was gross and warm and it felt like a fucking shower; they were happy because they felt  _alive_ , and their shouts were chorused by the boom of thunder. They felt like gods.  
  
The five of them ran through the streets, laughing at the top of their lungs with dirt and blood streaking down their faces. By the time they reached Jonghyun and Minho’s place, their clothes were laden with water, hanging heavily off their skinny frames. They were dripping everywhere but it didn’t matter – every time lightning struck the sky there was a flash of teeth as they grinned at each other, an arm going around a set of shoulders with every crack of thunder.  
  
Jonghyun pushed open the door, everyone tripping through to toe off their shoes and drip their way into the kitchen. Minho brought back a bundle of towels and tossed them at Kibum. Jonghyun stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, toweling his hair as he watched Taemin and Jinki wrestle for a towel.  
  
He caught Minho’s eye, followed a drop of water trace a line down his face from his bangs, Minho’s eyes hooded from the towel draped over his head. Jonghyun shook himself, roughly bringing the towel down over his own head. Dropping it on the ground to soak up the puddles of water they were creating, Jonghyun made his way back to the bedrooms. He gathered a pile of clothing for everyone to change into and, once they were all as dry as they would be, they migrated to the living room.  
  
Like clockwork, everyone collapsed into their regular spots. After a beat, Jonghyun exhaled loudly.  
  
“Whose a guy gotta sleep with around here to get a cigarette?”  
  
Kibum snorted as Jinki fished a pack out from his jeans. He pulled one out and made a face, throwing Jonghyun an apologetic look.  
  
“They got too wet,” he said, tossing the pack on the coffee table. Jonghyun briefly mourned the loss before he was smacked in the face with something small and hard.  
  
He sputtered and grabbed the sucker from his lap. Minho fixed him with a look from the couch, like he was personally offended that Jonghyun had let himself get hit or something.  
  
“What,” Jonghyun said, slightly defensive.  
  
“Eat that instead,” Minho replied, nodding at the sucker. “It’s better for you and it doesn’t make the whole room smell like shit.”  
  
“Fine,” Jonghyun said as defiantly as he could while still popping the candy into his mouth.  
  
The sucker dyed his lips red and he was still licking the sugar away that night when Minho’s hand settled on his shoulder, heavy and warm, before his door closed.  
  
-  
  
Jinki was hands down – or hands on – the best at playing gay chicken. There was a shamelessness in him that was unmatched by Kibum or Taemin or even Jonghyun, and he had a hidden competitive streak that rivaled Minho's. He just couldn’t be fazed. None of them ever really planned to play it, it just kind of happened. Jonghyun would put his hand on Taemin's leg while he talked and he'd forget it was there. And so obviously the only logical course of action would be for Taemin to put his own hand up higher on Jonghyun's leg.  
  
There was no point to any of it. All of it was just in good fun and the spirit of a little healthy competition. Or something like that.  
  
Jinki's hand slipped up to the top of Kibum's thigh and Kibum yelped and pulled away, signaling his resignation from the impromptu game. There was a light flush across his cheeks and, if Jonghyun didn't know better (and maybe he didn't), he'd say that Kibum was embarrassed. Just after, for whatever reason, Jinki decided to call it a day at that and backed out, seated next to Kibum with a small smile on his face.  
  
Meanwhile, all eyes were on Jonghyun and Taemin as Taemin's hand snuck around Jonghyun's waist, laying dangerously close to the front of his pants. But Jonghyun liked skinship and was always just a tad bit too enthusiastic when he played, so he unceremoniously stuck his hand down the back of Taemin's pants and grabbed. Taemin's hand tensed on his stomach and pulled away, smacking the back of Jonghyun's head as he laughed.  
  
That only left Minho. A knot grew in Jonghyun's stomach, a hot little coal nestled right in the pit. He swallowed it back down and put on a grin. Aside from Jinki, Minho really was his best competition because he was surprisingly daring and he tried to catch Jonghyun off guard every time. He showed it right off the bat too, as he leaned in close.  
  
Jonghyun was familiar with this game because it was one that they played often. It was always Minho who started it. He'd come in real close, like he was leaning in to kiss Jonghyun, and then it was up to them to see who pulled back first. None of the others played it this way, kept to hands only, so this was Jonghyun's and Minho's game.  
  
Minho's breath was hot on Jonghyun's face as he inched closer, a tiny, mischievous smile lifting the corners of his lips. Jonghyun could see that gleam in his eye, the one that Minho got when he was having fun, and he decided to up the ante. He swooped in closer, nose bumping against Minho's, and Minho almost pulled back in surprise before he caught himself, his own nose nudging just a little closer.  
  
Jonghyun knew he wouldn't pull back today; he could win this one – he  _wanted_  to win this one. So he pushed forward a little more, nose sliding past Minho's and hitting his cheek. He could feel Minho's body tense in front of him, could feel the muscles in Minho's leg coiling tightly beneath his palm. Jonghyun parted his lips and breathed out slowly and he was so close he could almost feel the press of Minho's chapped lips against his.  
  
He was a hair's breadth away when Minho sucked in a breath and pulled back.  
  
Jonghyun caught a sliver of Minho's shocked expression before it was replaced with bashfulness.  
  
“Guess you win this one,” he said, rubbing the back of his head.  
  
“What kind of fucking foreplay...” Kibum muttered to Jinki as he stood up. Jinki just shook his head.  
  
Jonghyun was unofficially announced the winner and they headed towards the door to go grab a bite to eat. But as he pulled on his shoes, Jonghyun couldn't shake the phantom feeling that he'd still lost.  
  
-  
  
“Let’s go for a drive.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
Jonghyun shrugged and they got in the car. It was that simple. Every once in a while Jonghyun would just want to get in the car and drive drive drive until he was lost and wasn’t even sure his phone could direct him back home. Minho was the best to have around at times like this because he knew when to talk and he knew when Jonghyun needed to just think. (He was also a fantastic listener, but you didn’t hear it from Jonghyun.)  
  
Jonghyun actually kind of liked the smell of gasoline. It was distinct and a little sour and it ran through his veins as he breathed it in. He could smell it out here more clearly, out in the hot air with no civilization around for miles. The windows were open, molten air whipping past them and Jonghyun swore he could see mini dust tornadoes swirling into existence in the distance.  
  
The conversation had died out some time ago, Minho sensing Jonghyun’s need to lose himself in the blurry horizon line, warped in the waves of heat. He had turned the radio on, hooked an arm over the car door, and watched the road zip past. Jonghyun was thankful for that. His head had been too noisy as of late and he needed to let it wear itself out, let the thoughts slip out the window with the breeze, before he could think properly again.  
  
They hadn’t come across another car for almost an hour now. Driving through a dusty wasteland in Jonghyun’s beat up old car on a long stretch of empty highway, this was where Jonghyun felt the most calm. Next to him, Minho was slumped against the car door, mouth slightly open as his hair flapped around his face. He looked so soft.  
  
Eventually Jonghyun pulled over. He probably wasn’t going to get in trouble for this, seeing as how there didn’t seem to be any other living soul on the planet besides them anymore.  
  
It took him a couple moments of sitting in silence, bright sunshine reflecting off the road and blinding him, before he shook Minho’s arm. “Hey. Wake up.”  
  
“Where are we?”  
  
“No clue.”  
  
Minho nodded, eyes squinted and lips pursed. He got so…puffy when he slept. Everything about him, his face, his eyes, his lips, even his damn hair. Like a fucking cotton ball.  
  
“Hey.” Jonghyun nodded his head towards the door and got out.  
  
It was damn hot outside, but for some reason that’s where he wanted to be. He climbed up on the hood of the car, feet braced against the bumper as he sat down. The car bounced as Minho climbed up next to him, nudged him to move over so they could both sit down on the hood of his car in the middle of fucking nowhere.  
They were well and truly lost, just like Jonghyun wanted to be.  
  
Minho let him have his moment of silence and contemplation, let him look out at all the exciting nothingness for as long as his little heart desired. But when Jonghyun shifted, spread his legs out a little more comfortably, Minho took that as his cue.  
  
“What are we getting for dinner after this?”  
  
“Really?” Jonghyun said, eyeing him. “That’s what you’re going with?”  
  
“Yup.” Minho seemed unbothered by his not living up to Jonghyun’s idea of ideal conversation starters.  
  
Jonghyun leaned back on his hands, the hot metal nearly scalding his hands; he carried on regardless.  
  
“Dunno yet.”  
  
He honestly didn’t want to think about anything further than this moment. It wasn’t that he was a romantic – he totally was, but that was beside the point – it was just that his mind was still abuzz with too many things. His conversation with Jinki from weeks prior was still one of the main things flitting through his head at night when he couldn’t sleep even though he really should have been. And if Jonghyun really allowed himself to think about it, which he didn’t ever under any circumstances, the future kind of terrified him.  
  
So he didn’t think about it if he could help it, sometimes even when it came in little doses like what he was going to eat for dinner.  
Despite the gloomy clouds in his head, the sun was pounding against his skin and Jonghyun was sure they were both going to have a little more color to them by tomorrow. Good, that was good. Minho looked nice with a little tan.  
  
Jonghyun shook his head.  _He_  looked nice with a little tan. Yeah. It complemented his silver hair or whatever. Yeah, that was it. God, what the fuck ever.  
Jonghyun fished a lone cigarette out of his pocket and lit up.  
  
“I hate it when you do that, you know,” Minho said quietly, staring off in another direction.  
  
Jonghyun sighed. He didn’t really like it either. Making a split second decision, he thrust out his arm, hand hovering in front of Minho’s face.  
  
“Then you hold it for me.”  
  
Minho looked perplexed. “And what the hell am I supposed to do with it?”  
  
Jonghyun clicked his tongue. “You only give it to me when you want.” He waved his arm impatiently. “I dunno – do you want to hold it or not?”  
  
Instead of answering, Minho grabbed the cigarette, his long fingers brushing against Jonghyun’s hand. It was so hot outside, but something made Jonghyun shiver. He shook himself off and pushed off the hood. Back in the car, it wasn’t long before Minho popped open the glove compartment and pulled out a beer.  
  
“You still keep these in here?” He asked, clearly amused. Jonghyun could feel the smirk without even seeing his face and staunchly refused to look at him.  
  
Minho chuckled and, with the cigarette still burning away in his hand, fumbled around a little before he was able to open it. He took a long drink, head tipped back, and Jonghyun could see his throat working around it out of the corner of his eye. And then he was bringing the bottle back down, but instead of slipping it into one of the cup holders like a normal person, he kept it held between his legs.  
  
Jonghyun raised an eyebrow and he knew Minho could see it. Minho just turned away with a smile, arm hanging out the window, cigarette dangling between his fingertips.  
  
Jonghyun turned up the radio and let his voice free. He had a pretty damn good voice, if he did say so himself, and the world was wide and open for him, just waiting to let the sound carry through the open road. Minho had his head turned, hand brought up against his mouth and braced against his chin, but even so Jonghyun could still see his smile.  
  
And then Minho turned toward him, all the way around in his seat so that he was facing Jonghyun, and reached right over the gear shift. His hand came up in front of Jonghyun’s face, the cigarette still burning away between his fingers. Jonghyun’s lips parted and Minho slipped the cigarette in, still perched between his fingers, and Jonghyun could feel the calluses from Minho’s palm against his lips, but it was soft too.  
  
Minho pulled his hand back and Jonghyun glanced over. His eyes met Minho’s and he exhaled, smoke fanning around his face.


	4. Chapter 4

“Where’s Taemin?”  
  
Jinki tilted his head back, staring at Jonghyun upside down from the couch.  
  
“Said he was gonna be staying at Jongin’s for a while.”  
  
Jonghyun made a noise of recognition and turned back to the stove. It was without a doubt far too hot to be cooking – especially with a stove – but when a man needed scrambled eggs, he just had to take the heat or get out of the kitchen. Or take the heat and then get out of the kitchen, as the case may be.  
  
He flipped his eggs out onto a plate and wondered how the other boy was doing. It had been a couple days since Taemin last came over, but if he was with Jongin – or at least if Jongin knew where he was – then everything was fine. Jonghyun still had a space reserved in his brain to worry about Taemin, but it didn’t need to take the reins this time at least.  
  
He carried his plate out into the living room and dropped it with a loud clatter onto the table.  
  
“You’re going to break your plates like that,” Jinki said, idly, thumbs tacking across his phone screen.  
  
Jonghyun didn’t reply, too busy stuffing his face with egg-y goodness, but he made sure to flip Jinki off, just so that he was sure Jonghyun had heard him. (He didn’t want to be rude and ignore his guest after all.)  
  
Minho walked out some time later as Jonghyun was finishing his food and leaned over Jinki, forearms braced along the back of the couch.  
  
“Hey, hyung,” he said pleasantly. Jinki’s signature smile greeted him and Jonghyun squeezed his fork just a little harder than strictly necessary. His throat felt tight and he gulped down a glass of water, ignoring the casual way Minho hung over Jinki. The food just went down wrong, that was all.  
  
“You’re up early,” Jinki joked. It was almost two in the afternoon; Minho had been sleeping in later, recently. Jonghyun knew this because he lived with him. Jinki knew this because…  
  
Jonghyun’s brain trailed off and he picked up his phone, intent on enjoying a little mindless activity.  
  
Minho shrugged a shoulder, an easiness about the way he moved. His face was soft like a pillow. Jonghyun wanted to punch it. He kept his hands to his phone instead.  
  
“Thought I’d be a productive member of society today.”  
  
He disappeared into the kitchen, came back with an orange, and the sharp citrus smell that pierced the air as he peeled into it caused Jonghyun to look up and really  _look_.  
  
Minho really didn’t need to be flaunting himself like he was, walking around in a tight white wife beater. What the fuck, did he think there were girls around or something? Who the hell was he trying to impress?  
  
Jonghyun scrolled on his phone more vigorously and definitely did not look at Minho.  
  
“Want some, hyung?” Minho asked, offering Jonghyun the orange.  
  
“Absolutely not,” Jonghyun muttered.  
  
-  
  
Some days, Jonghyun was just wound up too tightly and it didn’t take much to set him off. Today was one such day when a small gang walked up to them, assessed Jonghyun, and started throwing out the taunts.  
  
It started with a simple (if not ostentatious) question:  
  
“Are you inclined towards the affections of other men?”  
  
Jonghyun didn’t remember much after that aside from seeing red.  
  
His fist made contact with the boy’s face once, twice, again and again and again. He couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even feel the impact, just kept punching and punching like a switch had been flipped off in his head, all functions shutting down except those directly focused on beating the shit out of the guy in front of him.  
  
At some point, Jonghyun must have knocked him down because when the instinct cleared and the big ugly feeling in his chest died away, he realized that Kibum was dragging him away from the body on the ground. The guy’s friends rushed forward, circling around him more closely as they surveyed the damage done to his broken, bleeding face.  
  
Jonghyun stared, hands limp at his sides. He could feel the ache in his bones, the raw skin burning at his knuckles as Kibum pushed him towards their friends. They were looking at him strangely and Jonghyun had a calm, out of body moment as he realized everything that had happened. And then he ran.  
  
His legs burned, his lungs burned, his eyes burned, but Jonghyun kept running as hard as he could until a pair of arms circled in front of him just before the air was knocked out of him. He hit the ground, jaw snapping back against itself, teeth clicking together harshly. Minho sat up quickly, holding Jonghyun down as he struggled until the others reached them.  
  
“What the hell, Jonghyun?” Kibum panted, hands dropping to his knees.  
  
“Let me go!” Jonghyun shouted, frantically thrashing against Minho’s hold.  
  
“Whoa, hold up!” Minho’s arms tightened around him and a blind wave of panic flashed through Jonghyun. “Calm down.”  
  
But Jonghyun couldn’t; his mind was a loud buzz of delirious static and, for just a moment, he thought the hysteria would actually knock him out. Noticing something wrong, Minho released him and Jonghyun scrambled to get away, backing away as fast as he possibly could on such shaky arms. There was a tremor running through his body that he couldn’t stop.  
  
Kibum stepped forward carefully. Minho joined Jinki and Taemin a ways back, the three of them watching in confusion and worry as Kibum made his way over to a shaking Jonghyun.  
  
Jonghyun looked up, eyes wide and fearful.  
  
“What the fuck’s up with you right now?” Kibum demanded, hands shooting to his hips as he stood above Jonghyun.  
  
Jonghyun shot to his feet and pivoted, ready to bolt again.  
  
“Oh no, you don’t!” he said, grabbing Jonghyun’s arm and stopping him in his tracks. “You need to calm down!”  
  
“Kibum, please,” Jonghyun pleaded, tugging his arm away. But Kibum’s fingers closed around his wrist again and he kept a strong hold as he turned back to call out to the others.  
  
“You guys go back first. I’ll take care of this.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Jinki called back, clearly uncertain.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. We’ll catch up with you later.”  
  
With great uncertainty, the others turned to head off, Minho glancing back and catching Jonghyun’s eye. The shivers started back up and Jonghyun was half afraid his arm would be ripped off from the force. Kibum had to be able to feel it, he needed to stop or Kibum would realize something was wrong. ( _As if he couldn’t already_ , his mind hissed at him.)  
  
“What’s up?” Kibum asked, eyes locking on Jonghyun.  
  
He ducked his head, kicking the ground moodily. “Nothing.”  
  
“Bullshit.” His hand tightened around Jonghyun’s wrist. “Tell me.”  
  
“Nothing!” Jonghyun insisted, trying to tug his arm back. Since when had Kibum gotten so strong? “What that guy said bothered me – it’s no big deal.”  
  
“If it’s no big deal,” Kibum started, drawing himself up to his full height to look down at Jonghyun. “Then why the hell did you flip out like that?”  
  
“Like what?” Jonghyun muttered.  
  
“You freaked the hell out, Jonghyun. You can’t expect us not to notice something like that.”  
  
Jonghyun wished he could turn into an ant or a flea or something small so that he could hide and no one would find him. He felt about 2 centimeters high anyway.  
  
“Yeah, well I didn’t like what he implied!”  
  
“What?” Kibum asked, rounding on him. “That he implied that you could like guys?”  
  
Jonghyun tensed up, hackles raised like a dog on high alert.  
  
“Shut the fuck up, Kibum.”  
  
“No, Jonghyun – what the hell has you so freaked out? What about that made you go ballistic and punch his face in?”  
  
Jonghyun turned on his heel, finally breaking Kibum’s hold on his wrist. “We’re not doing this.”  
  
He heard Kibum mutter, “oh, for fuck’s sake” behind him before fingers were burying themselves in the back of his shirt and he was being swung around by his collar.  
  
“What the hell?”  
  
His voice was angry and scared and he was getting too loud but he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to be away, he needed to be alone, he needed anything but to be doing this.  
  
“We need to talk about this.” Kibum said, fixing him with a no nonsense look.  
  
“No, Kibum, I can’t.” Jonghyun’s voice was rising, his voice nearly shrill in panic. Kibum was serious and there was no way he was going to let Jonghyun out of this, but Jonghyun just  _couldn’t do this right now_.  
  
“What’s so wrong about liking boys, Jonghyun?” Kibum asked over him.  
  
“There’s nothing wrong,” Jonghyun shouted. “I just don’t like them!”  
  
“You don’t, or you  _can’t_?” Kibum shot back.  
  
No. No no no no, nope that was not happening. He wasn’t attracted to a guy, to any guy ever. He had never been attracted to a guy even kind of. He never was and he never would be and he certainly would not fucking want to date a boy or hold his hand or kiss him or anything else. That was something other people did. They could do those things, that was fine. But Jonghyun didn’t do those things and he never would.  
  
“I can’t!” Jonghyun’s head was spinning. “I haven't done more than get drunk and kiss a boy and call it an accident!”  
  
“So you’re having an internal crisis. Whatever, this is normal.”  
  
“This is not a fucking normal reaction!” he shrieked. “I beat the shit out of him!”  
  
“Yeah, well you’ve always been kind of intense,” Kibum said idly, but his hand was firm around Jonghyun’s wrist again.  
  
“I can’t like boys, Kibum!” Jonghyun stressed, angry tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.  
  
“Why not?” Kibum asked challengingly.  
  
“I just can’t!” Jonghyun’s eyes were wild; he felt like he was going to black out.  
  
Something in Kibum’s expression shifted, his eyebrows coming together in worry as his eyes softened, realization dawning on his face. “Hey, hey, okay,” he said, reaching his hands out. “I get it. It’s fine.”  
  
The hands on Jonghyun’s shoulders anchored him. “I’ll drop it, don’t worry.”  
  
All the fight drained out of him.  
  
“Thanks, Bummie.”  
  
-  
  
Minho’s loud wind chime laugh rang through the room, the sound popping in Jonghyun’s ears like bubbles. They were watching some kind of nature documentary and when the penguins showed up, Jonghyun cracked a joke – probably the lamest joke that had ever made its way past his lips – and all at once they were doubled over on themselves, clutching their stomachs as their laughter wheezed past their mouths.  
  
From then on, they tried to one up each other with bad jokes, watching the way the penguins waddled around, the babies tipping over on their unsteady feet. Jonghyun wasn’t even sure what exactly was funny about it – in fact, it was the dumbest conversation he had ever taken part in. But even so, all he knew was that he couldn’t stop laughing for the life of him.  
  
He smacked Minho on the arm as he let out another loud howl of laughter; his own arm hurt from where Minho had been repeatedly pounding on his arm too. Jonghyun was fairly certain that this counted as an actual workout: his stomach muscles were tight and aching and he was convinced that if he lifted up his shirt his abs would be one hundred percent more defined than they had been when he’d woken up this morning.  
  
Kibum had been eyeing them from the other couch for the last ten minutes, the annoyed look growing on his face as they became increasingly louder. Jonghyun swore he could see comical veins practically popping out on his head.  
  
“Are you even watching this thing anymore?” He asked, voice raised above Jonghyun’s and Minho’s shrieks of laughter.  
  
They both froze, eyes locked and mouths open.  
  
“Oh,” Jonghyun asked, looking up in mock surprise as if he hadn’t realized Kibum was there. “You’re still here?”  
  
“Just – screw you, guys,” Kibum said, face twisting as he tried to keep the smile at bay. “I’m leaving and you should too. You’re going to go crazy if you just sit here and laugh at animals anymore.”  
  
Minho collapsed dramatically against Jonghyun’s shoulder. “He’s kicking us out of our own place,” he cried pathetically.  
  
“Where will we go? What will we do?” Jonghyun sobbed, face screwed up in exaggerated sorrow.  
  
Kibum just shook his head at them, the fondness in his eyes betraying his exasperation.  
  
“Go off and talk and do whatever dumb things you do when you leave.”  
  
He closed the door with a click and Jonghyun and Minho stared at each other.  
  
“Wanna go get pizza?” Minho asked.  
  
“Yeah, sure.”  
  
-  
  
Sometimes Jinki went quiet and disappeared off to a place that none of them could reach. He was there, physically, but mentally he’d check out. And someone would wave a hand in his face or call his name, and he’d look up and smile like nothing was wrong. But then, when the focus shifted and it seemed like no one was looking anymore, that look would creep up again, fast and chilling, and the light all drained out of Jinki’s eyes.  
  
Jonghyun couldn’t really remember the first time he’d seen that look, it had just always been there.  
  
Most of the time Jinki looked happy, the perfect picture of content and carefree; he was still in school (and he had good grades at that), his home life was peaceful with a loving mother and a proud father, and he had a close group of friends that he could rely on. There really shouldn’t have been a reason for Jinki just shutting down, locked inside himself. The scary thing was that Jonghyun knew firsthand how there didn’t need to be a reason for it to keep happening.  
  
“You wanna go down to the lake?” Jonghyun asked him, heart thudding unevenly in his chest.  
  
“Nah, not today,” Jinki said with a smile. And then he turned back to his phone like everything was fine, but Jonghyun could see how quickly his face shuttered.  
  
And that was the thing – Jinki was always smiling. It was so casually deceptive that Jonghyun wasn’t sure anyone had even noticed. There was nothing out of the usual: Jonghyun was loud, Kibum rolled his eyes, Taemin complained, Minho placated, and Jinki smiled. That smile was there day after day without fail, and that’s what tricked everyone.  
  
He didn’t look like a sad person. He didn’t look like someone who sat and stared at the wall for hours on end, wrapped in a blanket and unmoving even in the unbearable heat. Jonghyun had seen it and immediately wished he hadn’t. It was like Jinki had given up, like his soul had just vacated his body, like he just didn’t care anymore, about anything.  
  
Jonghyun had tried to act normal after that, stayed locked up in his room until he heard Jinki puttering around in the kitchen. And it made him sick how easy it was to act normal, because Jinki had smiled like nothing was wrong, like his eyes hadn’t been dead just that morning.  
  
Keeping Jinki’s feelings close at heart, Jonghyun tried not to make a big deal out of it. He was disgusted with himself at how easy that was, to talk and joke with Jinki like nothing was wrong, because Jinki had everyone around him convinced that everything was okay. He’d smile, bright and happy, without a care in the world, and it seemed like nothing in the world could bother him. Sometimes, it even slipped Jonghyun’s mind.  
  
He tried, once, to talk with Jinki about it. But how do you bring that up to someone?  _Hey, I know you look happy every day and all, but I’m pretty sure there’s something wrong because no one’s eyes should look like that when they’re happy_. Yeah – that wasn’t happening.  
  
They had been huddled on Jonghyun’s tiny bed, sitting in the dim light of the dying sun. They’d been there for a while and Jonghyun hadn’t moved, hadn’t flipped on any of the lights. Jinki seemed to like it better that way, anyway. Especially when Jonghyun shifted, voice a dull hum as he asked, “is everything alright?”  
Jinki hadn’t answered right away and it had occurred to Jonghyun that he hadn’t prefaced the question with any kind of understanding. He’d just been thinking about it for so long.  
  
But still, Jinki must have noticed that Jonghyun had figured out something was wrong.  
  
“It’s just hard sometimes.” His voice was soft and unsteady as he kept his chin tucked against his knees.  
  
That was the most Jinki had ever said about it.  
  
Not much changed after that, but Jinki allowed Jonghyun a quiet smile every once in a while, a silent message of  _don’t worry about me too much. I’m fine_. Jonghyun didn’t believe it for a second – this wasn’t the kind of thing that just went away – but he was grateful for it all the same.  
  
“Alright,” Jinki said, hoisting himself up. “I think I’m gonna head out.”  
  
Jonghyun stood up, joining Jinki at the door. Things hadn’t been so good lately.  
  
“Text me when you get home?” He asked. His brows pulled together, a headache forming between them. He felt sick. He hoped to god he could keep it down until he was alone.  
  
“What am I, twelve?” Jinki joked, knocking Jonghyun’s hand with his. At Jonghyun’s weak smile, his face smoothed into understanding, something quiet and sad lingering behind his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll text you.”  
  
“Take care, man.” Jonghyun hugged him and then Jinki was off.  
  
Jonghyun lied in bed shaking for twenty minutes until his phone buzzed and a choked sigh of relief scraped past his throat. The nausea didn’t go away until he fell asleep, but it was back again soon after he woke up.  
  
-  
  
“Hyung, you know, I really  _can_  do this on my own.”  
  
Minho was seated on the couch in front of him once more as Jonghyun prepared to clean his wounds.  
  
“You’d probably just screw it up somehow,” Jonghyun said idly as he unscrewed a water bottle.  
  
“Uh…I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t.”  
  
He bumped Jonghyun’s leg with his foot. Jonghyun contemplated pushing him over, tempted with how off balanced Minho already was, but chucked a small bag of ice at him instead.  
  
“You don’t have enough hands.” Jonghyun nodded at the bag. “Put that on your eye.”  
  
Minho obediently raised the bag to the bruise blooming across his eye and held the makeshift ice pack there. Jonghyun rifled through their “first aid” box, tipping it out on the table when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. Finally, he gathered everything he needed and looked up. Minho was staring right at him and Jonghyun jolted.  
  
“Dude.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Look somewhere else,” Jonghyun said, pushing at Minho's face, still mindful of where he’d been hurt.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I don’t want your big freaky eyes staring into my soul.”  
  
Minho hit him with the bag of ice.  
  
But he stayed quiet and still as Jonghyun grabbed his face, bringing him closer so that he could clean a cut on his eyebrow. He did not, however, stop staring at Jonghyun, and Jonghyun shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to knock Minho over again. Really, who did that? Jonghyun secretly believed that Minho had to be an alien if he didn’t find this weird. (He was totally an alien.)  
  
As Jonghyun cleaned up the cuts littered all over Minho’s face, he scoffed internally. Minho had gotten careless; he never used to be hit in the face this much. You’d think that with a face as handsome as his, he’d want to protect it better. Wait. Scratch that. His face wasn’t handsome, it was really, really dumb. Yeah. Super dumb and not handsome at all.  
  
Minho shifted the ice pack, the back of his hand brushing the inside of Jonghyun’s wrist. Jonghyun’s hand spasmed like he’d been electrocuted. Minho raised an eyebrow at him, the one Jonghyun had just cleaned, and Jonghyun scowled at him, maturely not tossing a dirty cotton ball at him even though he  _really_  wanted to.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“Didn’t say anything,” Minho said airily.  
  
Jonghyun grabbed a clean wipe, tossing the cotton ball into the dirty, bloody pile. Gross. Wrapping the wipe around a finger, Jonghyun pulled Minho a little closer and titled his head to the side so that he could see the side of Minho’s mouth. He had a cut, right in the corner, a deep little red gash where his canine had cut into his skin.  
  
He pressed the tip of his finger to the cut, carefully wiping away the blood. Minho’s mouth opened, just the tiniest bit, and a shock ran through Jonghyun. Minho had such big lips. He could see the way they were chapped, the cracked skin catching against the thin wipe.  
  
Jonghyun glanced up, the sight hitting him like a punch. Minho’s eyes were closed and Jonghyun could see the way his lashes fanned out over his skin. He  _had_  gotten tanner, and Jonghyun saw the way his skin looked against the darkness of Jonghyun’s own hand. Shit. That looked nice.  
  
Minho shifted, face coming just a little closer with the motion and Jonghyun realized just how close they were. He could see everything, and Jonghyun’s eyes dropped back down to his lips, still a little open, and the way that his own hand was still hovering just next to them. His fingers twitched.  
  
He wanted to know what Minho’s lips felt like. They looked so different from his own. Jonghyun leaned in a little closer, looking them over, and he could feel Minho’s breath hitting his face in tiny, warm puffs.  
  
Then Minho was opening his eyes and staring at Jonghyun, all half-lidded gaze, face riddled with scrapes and looking far more attractive than he had any right to be, even with a bag of ice pressed to the muddled purple skin around his eye.  
  
“What?”  
  
His voice shook Jonghyun out of it, a proverbial splash of cold water right to the face.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
He swallowed, trying to push down the strange, misplaced discomfort. He turned back to cleaning the cut on Minho’s mouth, and this was taking more time than it really should have. There was only a thin layer of fabric separating Minho’s skin from Jonghyun’s fingers and he could feel it all.  
  
Jonghyun shot back nervously, too fast, but he didn’t notice.  
  
“’Kay, you’re done,” he said, slapping Minho’s cheek a little harder than strictly necessary.  
  
Okay. This was okay. Minho was attractive but Jonghyun totally did not want to kiss him. That was not what happened. He was just concerned about the deplorable state of his lips and how Minho really should think about buying chapstick or something to take care of that problem. He didn’t want to kiss him and he definitely did not find him more attractive than conventionally acceptable for two dudes who were friends. Not at all.  
  
Jonghyun swept everything from the table back into the box and shot into the bathroom to put it away, desperate for some reason to get away from Minho. But it wasn’t because he found him attractive! He just needed to make sure everything got put away properly. Yes, absolutely.  
  
He crouched down to slip the box back under the sink and stood back up, hands braced on the porcelain as he dropped his head and sighed. He was all over the place today. The was a noise behind him and Jonghyun looked up, nearly flying out of his skin as he saw Minho in the mirror, directly behind him.  
  
“Jesus fuck, Minho,” he said, whirling around, hand clutched to his thundering chest. “Give a guy a little warning, would you?”  
  
Minho paid him no mind, still staring at his face in the mirror.  
  
“How long do you think this will take to heal?” He asked, poking lightly at the bruise.  
  
“You're not gonna help it, doing that.”  
  
Minho dropped his hand. He stepped forward to get a closer look at his face and Jonghyun backed up, back pressing into the edge of the counter. Minho didn't seem to notice, his chest nearly bumping into Jonghyun's as he peered into the mirror. Any closer and he'd be bumping dicks with Jonghyun. The thought sent Jonghyun into a panic and he squeezed past Minho, skin tingling because apparently Minho really  _didn't_  know the meaning of “personal space”.  
  
So, of course, Minho followed Jonghyun into his room.  
  
“Man, he got me good,” Minho complained, dropping onto Jonghyun's bed. Jonghyun subtly pulled his legs farther away. “This is gonna look really ugly for a while.”  
  
Jonghyun hummed before an idea shot into his head.  
  
“Hey, you know,” he said excitedly. “That's a good look for you!”  
  
 “Yeah?” Minho stopped prodding the bruise and looked up, hopeful.  
  
“Yeah. It hides the stupid thing your face does.”  
  
“Oh yeah, and what's that?”  
  
Jonghyun gestured in the general direction of Minho's face.  
  
Minho tackled him.  
  
Jonghyun hit the bed with a  _fwump_ , the mattress bouncing him back up, sheets cracking against the air, as Minho's fingers descended on Jonghyun's side.  
  
“Make fun of me, will you,” Minho growled playfully as Jonghyun screamed.  
  
Minho was the only one who knew that his sides were the only ticklish part of him and he was using that knowledge against him. Jonghyun didn't know how he was going to get over the betrayal, but he knew it involved getting Minho back, some way or another.  
  
Jonghyun struggled against him, tears coming to his eyes as he shrieked with laughter. Minho was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad person and he was going to pay for this just as soon as Jonghyun didn't feel like he was going to piss himself. Flailing for all his life was worth, Jonghyun finally managed to dislodge Minho only to sit up and be pulled into a headlock.  
  
“How do you like this, you jerk?” He was laughing as he ground his knuckles into Jonghyun's head.  
  
“Mercy, mercy!” Jonghyun cried, pounding his fists uselessly against Minho's legs.  
  
Minho just laughed, loud and breathy in his ear. Jonghyun could feel Minho’s heartbeat, pounding away steadily at his back. In comparison, his own heart seemed to stutter and jump, jumping through hoops every time Minho’s skin brushed against his. This was stupid. Maybe he was dying.  
  
“I hope you've learned your lesson,” Minho said, releasing him.  
  
Jonghyun, out of breath, pulled away, smoothing his hair back into place as best he could. Minho, happy and warm faced, leaned back on his palms, a stunning portrait of summer love with his sun bleached hair, dark skin, and lazy smile. His shirt pulled against his muscles, the fabric stretching taut against his chest before he moved, standing up and making his way towards the door. Jonghyun felt like he’d been hit in the head with a two by four.  
  
Minho threw an easy smile at him before he slipped out the door and Jonghyun flipped him off, Minho’s laughter ringing through the hallway and carrying back into his room. Jonghyun released a breath and flopped back against the bed, a smile planted firmly on his face.  
  
-  
  
Jonghyun walked past the bathroom only to be hit by a veil of steam as Minho opened the door. He coughed, the cloud of steam worming its way down his throat and into his lungs.  
  
“Holy shit, Minho – what the hell?”  
  
“What?” Minho asked, towel wrapped around his neck.  
  
“How can you take a shower that hot?” Jonghyun asked, peering into the bathroom. He watched a bead of condensation drip down the mirror. “It’s like 180 fucking degrees!”  
  
Minho shrugged, making his way down the hall to his room. “Cold showers are unfulfilling.”  
  
Unful – what the hell. Who said shit like that?  
  
Jonghyun said as much, trailing behind him, but Minho just shrugged again. Jonghyun walked into Minho’s room in time to see Minho toss his towel onto the edge of the bed and sit down at his desk. Instead of watching the endlessly fascinating sight of Minho checking his email or some other riveting task like that, Jonghyun took a running start and dive bombed Minho’s bed, landing so hard that he bounced back up a couple inches.  
  
“Don’t break my bed,” Minho warned.  
  
Jonghyun leered at his back. “That’s what she said.”  
  
Minho spun around in his chair. “Did you really just try and make that sexy?”  
  
He was met with a sleazy grin from Jonghyun. Shaking his head, Minho turned back to his computer. Utterly bored, Jonghyun pushed his face into Minho’s sheets. They smelled vaguely like flowers and were probably called something like “moonlight blossom” or some other non-scent.  
  
He let out a loud, displeased groan, just to let Minho know exactly how bored he was. He was completely ignored. Jonghyun rubbed his sweaty face against Minho’s sheets just to let him know who was boss. (Minho had his back to Jonghyun still and therefore didn’t see him do so, but that didn’t stop Jonghyun from asserting his defiance.)  
  
Then Minho turned in his chair, just enough for Jonghyun to see him in profile, and leaned back, hooking his heels over the corner of his desk as he browsed through his phone. And it hit Jonghyun just what Minho was wearing and how totally not-modest a pair of shorts and a wife beater could be.  
  
He was wearing these shorts that barely reached halfway past his thighs. It didn’t help that he was leaning back, legs propped up like that, and the flimsy shorts were slowly but steadily riding their way up his tan, powerful legs. Jonghyun could see the dip between his pecs, could see a faint ribbing of his abs, could almost see the outline of his dick through those thin, thin shorts. Minho had a bruise on his left thigh, just peeking out from underneath his shorts and it was all Jonghyun could do not to think about sucking more bruises all the way up his leg. Realization hit him like a fucking semi.  
  
Oh, what. The.  _Fuck_.  
  
-  
  
Taemin had been gone for four days. No one had heard from him, no calls, no texts, not a fucking peep. Jongin wouldn’t even say anything, telling them he knew where Taemin was but he wouldn’t tell them. This was the longest Taemin had ever been gone without them knowing about it and Jonghyun was fucking terrified. Even if Jongin knew where Taemin was, that didn’t mean he was safe.  
  
Jonghyun heard the lock on the front door click and he looked up sharply. The door pushed open and Jinki walked through; Jonghyun deflated slightly, sinking back into the couch.  
  
“Any news on Taemin?” He asked.  
  
Jinki shook his head. “No. Jongin still won’t say. I don’t think Taemin’s at home, though.”  
  
“Thank god for that,” he muttered.  
  
They tried to take their minds off of it, turned on the TV and flipped through channel after channel until they were circling back to the beginning, still unable to focus. Taemin was probably fine. If Jongin knew where he was then everything was probably okay. Probably. It was that “probably” that scared Jonghyun – that and the fact that even if one person knew where Taemin was, it wasn’t any of them.  
  
Taemin wasn’t new to the whole disappearing act, he’d been doing it for years. The difference was that he always told them, or if he told Jongin, then the other boy let them know. This was throwing everything out of whack and, quite honestly, if Taemin didn’t want to be found, then he wouldn’t be. It was useless to look for him but that hadn’t stopped them, even if it was only for their own peace of mind.  
  
Jinki called Kibum over and within the hour, the three of them had vetoed about six different movies and, when Kibum suggested getting out to distract them, Jonghyun had staunchly refused to move. If Taemin came back, he couldn’t miss seeing him, just to make sure he was okay, to make sure he was really there.  
  
“Do you think he’s okay?” Kibum asked quietly, some time later, like he didn’t want to hear the answer. None of them had been able to properly keep a conversation going.  
  
Instead of answering, Jinki wrapped an arm around his shoulders. There was no way to know. Jongin’s lips were sealed and Taemin hadn’t contacted any of them, hadn’t even read their messages. Jonghyun knew because he checked about a thousand times a day and the little dot never went away, sitting there unassumingly and tightening the knot in his stomach.  
  
It had to be his dad. It had to be his fucking dad again, because Taemin only disappeared like this when things got bad at home and he’d never been gone this long. Four days wasn’t a lifetime, but it felt like it when they had to worry about his dad going too far and had no way of knowing if that was this time.  
  
It felt like hours later when a key slipped into the lock. He saw Minho first but then, tucked underneath his arm, was Taemin. Despite the heat, he had a jacket pulled on, the blue fabric hanging off his thin frame like a curtain. His hood was pulled up but he pushed it back when he stepped through and Jonghyun didn’t even have a moment to think before he was bolting from the sofa.  
  
Taemin looked at him and then Jonghyun pulled him in roughly, hugging the boy tightly to him. His breath came out in a whoosh of air against Jonghyun’s ear that ruffled his hair as Jonghyun squeezed him tightly. Taemin’s arms came up around him and then Jonghyun could feel arms coming around them both from all sides. God, they’d all been so fucking scared.  
  
“Damn it, Taemin. Don’t you do that to us ever again, you hear me?” He wasn’t going to cry, but his voice came out scratchy anyway as he tucked his face into Taemin’s neck. He felt Taemin nod against his shoulder and then they were all breaking apart, still huddled close together, like magnets bouncing off of each other.  
  
“How’re you doing?” Kibum asked, hand coming up to stroke Taemin’s hair.  
  
“I’m okay,” Taemin said, smiling behind tired eyes. “He just went a little too far this time. I had to get away.”  
  
This was why Taemin fought, to protect himself; in a way, it was why they all fought. Jonghyun felt rage growing in him, hot and stinging, as he looked at Taemin. He had a nasty bruise spread across his cheek, the purple bleeding into green and yellow and Jonghyun knew that meant it was healing but it shouldn’t have been there in the first place. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, wasn’t the first time Taemin had fled, but that didn’t make the routine any easier.  
  
Jonghyun was afraid of what bruises they would see littering Taemin’s body, come tomorrow.  
  
-  
  
Minho burst into Jonghyun’s room, the door practically ricocheting off the wall as he slammed it open.  
  
“Hyung!” Minho’s voice came out in an excited shout.  
  
“What!” Jonghyun shouted back, a grin working its way across his face.  
  
“Guess what?”  
  
If Minho were a dog, Jonghyun would see his tail wagging at top speed.  
  
“What?”  
  
“No, guess!”  
  
Jonghyun turned back and forth in his chair, a hand stroking his chin, as he pretended to think hard. He hummed then snapped his fingers.  
  
“You finally found pants that fit you!”  
  
“Hyung,” Minho groaned. “Guess seriously.”  
  
“I don’t know. What?”  
  
“It’s something exciting.”  
  
“Obviously,” Jonghyun said dryly, eyeing Minho, a grin still on his face. “Come on, just tell me.”  
  
“I got a job!”  
  
The grin slipped off immediately.  
  
“You what?”  
  
Minho didn’t notice, still over the moon as he paced back and forth in the doorway of Jonghyun’s room.  
  
“Yeah! They just called me.” His hands flew up to his head, running through his hair enthusiastically like all of his energy was sparking through his body at once. He couldn’t stop moving and it set Jonghyun’s teeth on edge, his irritation growing with each step Minho took. “I didn’t think I’d even passed the interview – god, I can’t believe this.”  
  
“Me either,” Jonghyun burst out, cutting through Minho’s happy monologue.  
  
“Hyung?” Minho asked, confused. The excitement dropped out of his expression, his face screwing up in puzzlement as Jonghyun grew more and more angry.  
  
“When the hell did you go to an interview?” Jonghyun hissed through his teeth, seething.  
  
“A couple of days ago,” Minho said, voice rising a little to match Jonghyun’s. “What the hell’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy for me, hyung.”  
  
Every muscle in Jonghyun’s body coiled up tight at that. He was happy for Minho for about a million things, but why should he be happy about Minho going behind his back and doing something that would change things?  
  
“So you went off and got a job without letting me know first?” Jonghyun snapped, practically shouting.  
  
“Why the hell should I have to let you know first? I didn’t even know if I’d get it!”  
  
“You should have told me first!” Jonghyun wasn’t sure when he left his chair but he was in front of Minho, glaring up at him, fists clenched tightly by his sides.  
  
“You didn’t get all butt-hurt when Kibum got a job! What the fuck’s your problem?”  
  
Jonghyun’s mind went blank for a moment, a white hot flash blazing through his body.  
  
“Get out.”  
  
“Jong –”  
  
“Get out!” Jonghyun screamed, lashing his arm out. His hand struck against Minho’s, leaving behind a red imprint of his fingers against the skin. Minho stared down at his hand and then his eyes narrowed, meeting Jonghyun’s fiercely.  
  
“Fine,” he said coldly.  
  
The door slammed and Jonghyun threw his lamp at the wall, the bulb shattering, shards thrown across the floor.  
  
They didn’t talk for almost a week.  
  
For the most part, Jonghyun just pretended that Minho didn’t exist which was easy because Minho had suddenly disappeared. Jonghyun knew that he was around – he heard from Jinki about the movie they saw, heard Kibum talk about something that Minho had showed him just yesterday, heard from Taemin how great the food truck they found was.  
  
He just never happened to be in the same place as Jonghyun at the same time. Which suited him just fine because Minho was a jerk who snuck behind his back to do things like get a stupid job that he totally didn’t need.  
  
“Why are you so bothered about it?” Taemin asked in between jamming handfuls of french fries in his mouth.  
  
“Because!” Jonghyun sputtered. “He should have told me first!”  
  
“Why? Are you his mom?”  
  
“Uh. No. Obviously,” Jonghyun said, gesturing up and down to his body.  
  
“Then why do you care so much?”  
  
“Just – because!” He didn’t fucking know. It was just annoying or something. Minho should have told him, point blank. Why did he have to sneak around?  
  
Taemin stopped, a fry hanging in the air half way to his mouth. He set it down slowly and looked a Jonghyun, seriousness enveloping his face.  
  
“He’s not just going to leave because of this, hyung.”  
  
Jonghyun floundered, face going slack as he tried to gather his thoughts because the direction Taemin was going in was  _so wrong_  and he needed to know just as soon as Jonghyun stopped trying to swallow his own tongue.  
  
“That’s what it is, isn’t it? You know this is going to change things.”  
  
Jonghyun laughed, high and so completely fake. “Oh, Taemin. Young Taemin. You’re so wrong.”  
  
“Am I?” One of Taemin’s eyebrows flew up challengingly.  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Then why did you get so pissed at him?”  
  
“Because!” Jonghyun exploded as quietly as he could. “He’s just stupid, that’s why!”  
  
Taemin muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like,  _you’re the stupid one_ , but Jonghyun graciously decided to ignore it.  
  
“What does he need a stupid job for anyway?”  
  
“Uh, I dunno,” Taemin drawled. “To get money?”  
  
Taemin clearly thought he was stupid. Whatever, he didn’t need Taemin’s help anyway. He pulled a heap of fries onto his tray and defiantly ate one at Taemin. The other boy rolled his eyes, standing up to deposit his now empty tray.  
  
“He’s not going to leave you, hyung. Just grow up and talk to him.”  
  
Despite Taemin’s terribly kind and wise words, Jonghyun avoided Minho for several more days. He wasn’t scared or anything. He could have adult conversations and admit he was wrong – but he wasn’t wrong. Minho was stupid and didn’t need a job and Jonghyun  _really_  wasn’t worried about anything, and certainly not about Minho leaving or things changing or being left behind.  
  
In the end, it was Minho who took the initiative.  
  
“Hyung?” He called through the door, his knuckles lightly rapping against the wood in two short bursts.  
  
Jonghyun looked up from his magazine, saying, “come in” before he realized that, oh shit, that was Minho and that meant they were going to talk. It was too late to take it back now, though, because Minho was already pushing the door open and walking in cautiously like a kitten in a new home. Jonghyun buried his face in his magazine and pretended to be very interested.  
  
Minho sat down at Jonghyun’s desk – a respectable distance away – and stayed quiet, his eyes boring into Jonghyun’s skull. Jonghyun jiggled his foot, determined not to be the first to break.  
  
But Minho had a lot more practice at this game than Jonghyun, and it wasn’t long before Jonghyun was rolling over and sitting up to face the other boy.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“I’m sorry for whatever it is I did that made you angry.” Minho’s face was sincere, which just made the whole situation even more awful when Minho’s words actually reached Jonghyun’s brain.  
  
“What? No. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jonghyun said, flustered. He toyed with the edge of the magazine and did  _not_  look at Minho.  
  
“I don’t?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Are you…sure?”  
  
Jonghyun could see how this could be confusing for Minho. He was just have to bite the bullet and be a real grown up about this. (It was about time, anyway.)  
  
“No,” he sighed. “I was just….surprised, is all.”  
  
Minho’s eyebrow raised slowly, his face skeptical and slightly amused. “Surprised?”  
  
Jonghyun wanted to punch his stupid, dumb face.  
  
“Yes. Surprised.” He turned back to his magazine, not even sure he was on the right page anymore, the edges crushed between his too tight grip. “Now, can you go? I’m reading.”  
  
Minho moved to the bed, scooted over close next to Jonghyun. “Reading what?”  
  
“Just stuff,” Jonghyun said, turning to the side so that Minho couldn’t see. It was all for naught; Minho hooked his chin over Jonghyun’s shoulder and scanned the pages.  
  
“Is it good?”  
  
“Fascinating.”  
  
“Hyung.” Minho’s voice was colored with amusement. “It’s upside down.”  
  
Jonghyun flipped the magazine over, fighting down the flush he could feel trying to spread across the back of his neck. He didn’t want Minho to feel it. Somehow, Minho knowing he was embarrassed made the heat on his neck tingle.  
  
“I knew that. I was just testing you.”  
  
“Were you now?”  
  
Okay, now Minho was basically just laughing at him. Wonderful. Jonghyun stayed silent, eyes moving across the page even though he wasn’t taking in any of the words.  
  
“I really am sorry,” Minho said quietly, breath brushing against Jonghyun’s ear. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”  
  
“You didn’t do anything,” Jonghyun assured him, dropping his magazine. His fingers went up to his temples, massaging the headache forming there.  
  
“Just – nothing. You didn’t do anything, I was just being stupid.” Jonghyun dropped his hands. “Can you leave now?”  
  
Minho looked down and it was quiet for a minute. Jonghyun stared at his sheets, picking at the multicolored stripes as if they were the strings of a guitar. This was way too awkward.  
  
“I start work next week,” Minho said so softly that Jonghyun almost wasn’t sure the other boy had actually even spoken.  
  
He made a noise of acknowledgement, careless and low pitched. Minho really just needed to get out of his room or Jonghyun was going to suffocate.  
  
He startled as Minho’s hand covered his own. He followed the hand up to Minho’s arm and all the way up, up, up until he got to Minho’s eyes, staring earnestly into his.  
  
“Can you help me pick out some clothes, hyung?”  
  
Jonghyun’s voice caught in his throat, a strange noise making its way past his lips before he gave up and nodded, a tad too erratically.  
  
“We can go this weekend, then.”  
  
Jonghyun nodded again, trying to slip his hand out from underneath Minho’s as inconspicuously as possible. It felt like it had been set on fire.  
  
Minho got up after that, and Jonghyun watched the way that Minho’s shirt stretched across his shoulders as he walked towards the door. Then, Minho turned around and, for one agonizingly long second, Jonghyun was afraid he’d gotten caught staring. But Minho just smiled, slow and easy and soft and alarmingly beautiful.  
  
“You know I’m not going anywhere, Jonghyun.”  
  
Jonghyun rode the opportunity to break the tension.  
  
“Why is everyone always saying that?” He asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation.  
  
He was met with a blinding smile from Minho in response.  
  
That weekend, Jonghyun went to the mall with Minho and helped him pick out white shirts and black slacks. Minho was going to be doing part time work as a waiter at a new restaurant and Jonghyun tried not to imagine what the clothes would look like on him as Minho held them up.  
  
He decided to get something for himself while he was there. Why the hell not, right? He found a beautiful black button down shirt with sleek cuffs and dark, shiny buttons, and was immediately pulled into one of the dressing rooms with Minho.  
  
“Why can’t I just go in my own?” Jonghyun hissed, afraid someone would know that the two of them were in there together and think they were up to _something_  – and then promptly ignored what that something could be.  
  
“I need you to tell me how it looks,” Minho insisted, pulling his shirt over his head.  
  
Jonghyun turned around sharply, quickly changing into his own shirt because he didn’t want to think about the reality of the two of them being shirtless in such a small space. He was just doing up the last button when Minho’s voice came from behind him.  
  
“How do I look?”  
  
Minho’s arms were slightly out at his sides and his face was colored with hesitation. But the white shirt fit him perfectly, hugging his body appropriately. Jonghyun was reminded of the last time he’d seen Minho in a white button down, when they’d snuck into prom and Minho had been just an awkward sixteen year old and his hair had been nearly down to his shoulders.  
  
Standing here, seeing Minho’s maturely sculpted face and his big hands fiddling with his shirt cuffs, he was blown away by how much Minho had grown up. God, he’d always been beautiful but he’d gotten so handsome.  
  
“You look great,” Jonghyun croaked, throat suddenly so dry.  
  
Looking up, Minho smiled then motioned for Jonghyun to come towards him. Jonghyun stepped forward, feeling like his knees had disappeared or something because walking really shouldn’t have been that difficult when his legs functioned properly. Minho reached out, drawing Jonghyun closer until Jonghyun was right in front of him, staring up at Minho, heart pounding in his chest.  
  
His hands went to Jonghyun’s collar and he fixed it, his thumbs brushing against the back of Jonghyun’s neck as he straightened it. Jonghyun fought down a shiver, hands twitching at his sides to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing Minho, pulling him close. He took a deep breath that stuttered in his lungs as Minho’s hands moved down to his chest. Jonghyun could feel those long, thin fingers smooth the shirt out over his chest, down his sides, until they reached the hem and tugged, pulling it taut.  
  
“Perfect,” Minho said, looking down at him with a disarming smile.  
  
Jonghyun felt his body burn from the inside out.  
  
-  
  
He felt the grind of the guy’s teeth against his knuckles for an entire second,  _one Mississippi_ , before the guy’s head snapped to the side with the force and he was knocked off balance. He was down for one, two, three, four, fivesixseveneightnineten seconds and,  _ding ding ding_ , we had a winner!  
  
A wicked grin splayed itself across Jonghyun’s face and he raced over to where his friends had naturally gathered in a loose circle, lazing around and on a park bench like the delinquents people thought they were. (To be fair, it was an accurate assumption.)  
  
With loud gestures and even louder voices, they decided to go out for a celebratory burger run. They brought the food back to Jonghyun’s and Minho’s place, as per usual, and Minho rustled up a round of beer for all of them. They picked out a crappy movie, falling fully into their routine and, over all, Jonghyun was feeling pretty good.  
  
That was – he did until he jostled Minho, their shoulders bumping, and Minho winced, a shock of pain painting his face.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Jonghyun asked, good mood melting away instantly into worry.  
  
“Nothing,” Minho insisted. But he was moving away from Jonghyun like he was trying to hide something. Jonghyun unthinkingly grabbed his shoulder and Minho let out a grunt of pain. He fixed Minho with a look.  
  
“I landed on my shoulder. It’s no big deal, hyung.”  
  
Jonghyun nodded, accepting the answer. “Make sure you ice it later.”  
  
Minho saluted him cheekily. “Will do, hyung.”  
  
Jonghyun bumped his knee against Minho’s and promptly forgot about the incident entirely. Well, he forgot until the next morning when he walked past Minho’s open door while the other boy was changing and caught sight of the black and blue bruise marring just about the entirety of Minho’s right shoulder.  
  
“What the fuck is that?”  
  
Minho whipped around, shirt still only half way around his arms in front of him. Jonghyun could see the moment that realization dawned on Minho’s face.  
  
“Did that asshole do that to you?”  
  
Minho was frozen, the shirt dropping to the floor.  
  
“Hyung.”  
  
“ _Did he do that to you?”_  Jonghyun roared, eyes blazing.  
  
“Jonghyun, please. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”  
  
Jonghyun felt like a caged tiger, fury pacing back and forth in his head as he ran through the faces of the gang they fought the day before.  
  
“Please,” Minho said, startling Jonghyun out of his thoughts. “Just leave it alone.”  
  
“Your whole fucking shoulder’s jacked up,” Jonghyun whispered, fingers moving up to brush along the bruise that had spilled over to the front of Minho’s shoulder.  
  
“But I’m okay,” Minho repeated, laying his hand over Jonghyun’s to stop its careful exploration.  
  
Jonghyun scowled, hand slipping out from Minho’s and poked the dark area. Minho tensed up, nostrils flaring as he tried to keep in a sound of pain. Jonghyun stared at him, one eyebrow climbing up as if to say,  _see? I knew you were lying to me_.  
  
“Just let it go, okay, hyung?” Minho sighed.  
  
Jonghyun couldn’t, though. He could feel it building up in him for days, this quiet seething, as he watched Minho wince and check movements that normally he would have been free with. The others noticed, saw the way Jonghyun grew increasingly more agitated, and everyone treaded cautiously, not bringing up Minho’s shoulder or the way that Jonghyun seemed to be acting like a chained dog.  
  
Everyone, that is, except Kibum.  
  
“What’s eating you?”  
  
“Bite me.”  
  
Kibum clicked his tongue. “Touchy.”  
  
“Oh, well excuse me, then,” Jonghyun sneered.  
  
Kibum sat down on the couch, propped against the arm and feet kicked up against the back. He pulled out his phone and everything was quiet for a few short, blissful seconds before Kibum opened his mouth again.  
  
“I’m guessing this has something to do with Minho.”  
  
“Wow, would you like a prize?” Jonghyun couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Everything was putting him on edge, ready to set him off.  
  
“You won’t be able to protect him every time,” Kibum commented idly, eyes fixed on his phone.  
  
“Yes, I will,” Jonghyun snarled, riled up.  
  
“Down, boy.” Kibum looked at him lazily. “He’s not a kid, Jonghyun. He can take care of himself.”  
  
Jonghyun looked at him incredulously. “Really? Because I’m pretty sure that right now his shoulder looks like a fucking abstract painting.”  
  
Kibum stared back at him, eyes serious and unblinking, mouth set in a firm line. “You can’t do everything yourself, Jonghyun. We’re going to get hurt sometimes and there’s not going to be anything you can do about it.” He turned back to his phone. “Just make sure you’re there, afterwards.”  
  
Jonghyun couldn’t help it; it was bound to have happened. He felt simultaneously restless and lethargic – not a good combination – and he was going crazy trying to keep it in. And then he just stopped trying. He went out at night, coming back before Minho went to sleep, and no one knew where he was going, but they didn’t really think to ask. Sometimes Jonghyun just did things that they couldn’t understand.  
  
It wasn’t until they were all gathered together that they realized that none of them knew where Jonghyun was and they hadn’t known for a few hours. He came back late that night, when the clock had already flipped back to single digits. Jonghyun’s hair was a mess, his shirt ripped, and his knuckles bloody, but he looked triumphant and, finally, easy going. His smile was cocky but sincere when he locked eyes with them all as he stepped in the door.  
  
He nodded at Minho and went to his room; Jonghyun had taken care of all the loose ends.


	5. Chapter 5

There hadn’t been any warning. (There never was with this kind of thing.) Jonghyun had been dozing on his bed, thoughts warping into dreams even though he still felt half awake. He’d been listening to the sound of the television drifting down the hall and fallen into the in-between space of awake and asleep. But then the front door slammed open and there was a thick beat of silence before Minho’s voice catapulted Jonghyun from his bed.  
  
“Shit – Taemin!”  
  
Disoriented but fully awake, Jonghyun stumbled his way into the living room. When Minho stepped out of the way, Jonghyun saw him, supported by Jinki and Kibum, a tiny cut bleeding from his forehead. Jonghyun couldn’t feel his legs as he walked towards Taemin.  
  
“Who the hell did this to you?” His voice came out in a raspy whisper as he touched Taemin’s forehead. The blood smeared against both of their skin.  
  
“Who do you think?” Taemin spat, shaking from head to toe. His breath wheezed out of him like a dying balloon and he was trying to hold back pained, angry tears. Jinki motioned to Kibum and they carefully helped Taemin over to the couch.  
  
Taemin lowered himself down painfully, keeping his left wrist cradled against his stomach. He was breathing shallowly, his chest rising and falling in short bursts. They were gathered in front of him, trading worried glances with each other silently, and Jonghyun felt like he was going to be sick. When the silence became too much, it was Minho who spoke up first.  
  
“What’s the damage?” He asked, addressing Jinki and Kibum.  
  
“Nothing life threatening,” Jinki said. “I didn’t have time to check him over completely before we came here.”  
  
“He wouldn’t let us,” Kibum admonished. Taemin looked up, a small impish smile peeking through the pained grimace.  
  
“He mostly got my ribs.” Taemin took a shaky breath and then lifted his wrist slightly. “And my wrist is kinda fucked up.”  
  
“Let me see now,” Jinki said, sitting down next to Taemin. He examined it, speaking so quietly with Taemin that Jonghyun couldn’t even make out the words, and pressed on each one of Taemin’s fingertips.  
  
After a few minutes he said, “I don’t think it’s broken but it’s definitely at least sprained.” He pushed his hair back tiredly. “Kibum, can you go get an ice pack?”  
Jonghyun barely saw Kibum walk away, his hands still shaking. They were all shaking, he noticed in a weird moment of hyper clarity, and then Jonghyun felt the tremor make its way up his spine, ringing around in his head as Minho sat down next to Taemin.  
  
“What about your ribs?”             
  
Taemin lifted his shirt. His torso was littered with red marks –  _fist marks_ , Jonghyun realized – and they were beginning to turn a deep purple around his rib cage. He heard someone gasp and wasn’t sure if it was one of the others or him; all he could do was stare at Taemin as Jinki ran gentle fingers over Taemin’s torso to look for broken ribs.  
  
“Minho,” Jinki said, looking up, face drawn.  
  
“I’ll go get another ice pack,” Minho interrupted, already walking away.  
  
Shaking himself out of his frozen state, Kibum handed Taemin the wrapped ice pack, carding a hand through the boy’s hair as Taemin held it to his wrist.  
  
“I think it’s just bruised,” Jinki concluded after a few minutes. He turned to Taemin, face pinched in worry. “But maybe we should take you to a hospital just to be –”  
  
“No, no, no!” Taemin protested. His ice pack dropped into his lap and he winced, a small squeak of pain escaping him as he agitated his injuries. Still, he looked back at Jinki, defiant and terrified. “I can’t go there!”  
  
“Taemin…”  
  
“NO! I can’t pay for it and I can’t let anyone know – I can’t let my mom know!”  
  
“Okay, okay,” Jinki said, speaking gently like he was trying to comfort a small animal. Minho stepped forward, ice packs and bandages in his hand, and took his place beside Taemin. He and Jinki helped wrap the ice packs around loosely, carefully around Taemin’s bruised ribs, as Jinki cautioned him, “ _try to breathe normally, Taemin-ah_ ”. Kibum handed him a pill and a glass of water and Taemin took them thankfully. All that was left was Jonghyun, helpless.  
  
He wanted to punch something, wanted to go to Taemin’s house and rip that man to shreds. If this were a movie he’d already be half way there but, in real life, he was just some scared kid and there was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do to protect Taemin from being hurt over and over again until –  
  
“You need to get out of that house.” When Taemin looked up at him, Jonghyun realized it was him who had spoken.  
  
“And go where?” Taemin asked wryly. “I have no money.”  
  
“You can stay at my place for as long as you want,” Jinki said, a hand on Taemin’s shoulder. “My mom won’t ask questions.”  
  
Taemin nodded and then Minho was pulling Taemin gently against him.  
  
“How could he do this to you?” He choked out, his voice thick as he stroked Taemin’s hair.  
  
That was what did it for Taemin and the tears finally crept down his cheeks, his face twisting as he quietly let loose all the anger and fear and frustration he’d felt. Minho rocked them back and forth just the tiniest bit, like a rocking chair swaying in the breeze, offering as much love as he could to their youngest member. Taemin was still just a kid – they all were. Something like this should never have had to happen.  
  
Minho’s voice was a low, comforting rumble as he talked to Taemin until the other boy drooped against him and Jinki took over, cradling Taemin in between them.  
  
“Have him sleep here tonight,” Minho whispered to Jinki. “He can take my bed.”  
  
Jinki nodded and carefully they maneuvered Taemin into Minho’s arms and set off down the hallway. Once they were out of sight Kibum collapsed on the couch, his shaking hands coming up to cover his face. He’d tried to keep a strong face in front of Taemin, tried not to make him even more upset than he already was, but with Taemin gone, Kibum was cracking. Jonghyun sat down next to him slowly, arm going up around Kibum’s shoulders as they sat in the empty room.  
  
“Hey,” he said softly after a few minutes. It wasn’t good for Kibum to wallow in the scenarios that were doubtlessly playing through his head. “Come on, he’s okay now.”  
  
He pushed his face into Kibum’s neck as the other boy trembled and shushed him lightly, hand grabbing one of Kibum’s and squeezing tightly. Jinki and Minho found them like that when they came back, Kibum calming down enough to lay his head against Jonghyun’s.  
  
“He’s asleep,” Minho said, rubbing a hand across his face.  
  
Jonghyun nodded his head absently and the room fell quiet. It wasn’t often that they had nothing to say to each other, and it was even rarer that they didn’t know  _what_  to say. Jonghyun took the initiative, letting go of Kibum slowly and standing up to face Jinki.  
  
“Why don’t you and Kibum stay here for the night?”  
  
“That’s…probably a good idea.” Jinki looked even more exhausted than Jonghyun felt. He wondered who found Taemin first, if they’d gone to his house, if Taemin had called one of them, if Taemin had stumbled through the streets, clutching his stomach, wrist dangling limply at his side as he struggled to get to one of them. He shook his head, dislodging the thoughts; he didn’t want to imagine that.  
  
“Taemin’s got my bed so you guys can take the couches.”  
  
“What about you?” Kibum asked.  
  
Minho shrugged. “I’ll take the floor in my room, make sure Taemin’s alright.”  
  
“Yeah…okay.”  
  
Some worry ate away at Jonghyun’s brain, niggling into a corner whenever he tried to catch a hold of it. It wasn’t until after they bid a solemn Jinki and Kibum goodnight and were making their way down the hallway that Jonghyun realized what it was: he didn’t want to be alone, and he really didn’t want Minho to be too. Jinki and Kibum had each other out in the living room but Jonghyun was going to be alone. Taemin shouldn’t have to be alone either but he was out for the night, too drained to be awake any longer and he’d probably stay that way until well after the rest of them had woken up.  
  
Fear taking a hold of him, Jonghyun reached out, fingers wrapping around Minho’s wrist before Minho’s hand could get around the handle of his door. He looked back at Jonghyun, surprised and maybe a little bit worried and, honestly, Jonghyun didn’t blame him. They were all shaken up from the night’s events.  
  
“Sleep in my room tonight.”  
  
Jonghyun expected some sort of opposition, expected Minho to turn him down and ease his own door open, expected Minho even to make a joke and tease him about it. But instead, he stared at Jonghyun and nodded, just once. Jonghyun should have dropped his wrist and turned around, went into his room and waited for Minho to follow, but he kept a hold on it, warm and tight, and tugged Minho into the room after him.  
  
Once the door closed, Jonghyun felt the suffocation. He dropped Minho’s wrist and rubbed his clammy hands on his pants, looking around the room like he’d never been there before. Had his bed always been so  _small_? Oh god there was no way he could do this. None of this should have been awkward, but lately he’d just been so  _aware_  of Minho and it was like he couldn’t stop noticing everything he did.  
  
The tension was exponentially multiplied, at least in his head, because both of them were practically out of their minds with worry over Taemin. He’d never come back this bad off before and, needless to say, even though they knew he was going to be fine it was still on the edge of terrifying. Jonghyun didn’t know what to do now.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Jonghyun saw Minho shift and then suddenly his shirt was coming up over his head.  
  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jonghyun said, his arms thrown out in front of him. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Getting ready for bed?”  
  
Okay. Okay, Minho didn’t see a problem with this which meant that Jonghyun shouldn’t either. That was fine – he could be chill, he could be a normal dude sleeping in a bed with another normal shirtless dude who was his friend. He wouldn’t make a big deal out of this.  
  
Jonghyun pushed his hair back, cracked his neck like he was gearing up for a fight. In a way he was: he’d be fighting against himself the whole night, at war with the worry for Taemin and fighting back the attraction at seeing his good friend and current bedmate looking gorgeous and shirtless and only a few inches away from him. Jonghyun could totally do this, no problem. Piece of cake.  
  
He eyed the bed and bit the bullet, dived under the thin sheet and pulled it all the way up to his neck despite the heat circulating in the room. Oh god, he didn’t have a fan in here. The lights were flicked off and the bed creaked as Minho climbed in on the side. Jonghyun wiggled his way as closely to the edge as he could get without falling off.  
  
Minho had a queen bed because he was a giant and slept all sprawled out all over the place. He couldn’t ever seem to keep his freakishly long limbs to himself at any given point, arms always sneaking around shoulders and hands in hair, and that pretty much applied even when he was asleep. Jonghyun had had the misfortune of practically having his nose broken once when Minho had rolled over in his sleep, massive hands flailing about dangerously.  
  
Jonghyun, on the other hand, was a compact kind of guy and he was just fine with a twin bed, thank you. (It had nothing to do with the fact that he got it for super cheap, or anything, why would you even think that?)  
  
So he was more than a little anxious to be sleeping next to Minho again. This time, though, giant flying limbs weren’t his only concern. Things had felt…weird between him and Minho for a while. It was like some tension had just fizzled into existence out of nowhere because there hadn’t been this kind of awkwardness between them before. Jonghyun didn’t know what it was, or where it came from, but it seemed to be growing each day and he was worried that the others would start to notice soon.  
  
He had felt it like a taut string between them ever since that guy had hurt Minho’s shoulder. When Jonghyun went out to go find him, it had stretched that much further and every day Jonghyun was worried about it snapping. He didn’t know what would happen after that, but it felt like they were on the edge of something big. Coupled with all that had happened, Jonghyun’s whole body was sent into a frenzy, nerves going haywire as he tried to act like nothing was changing.  
Jonghyun was shot back into the present as Minho made himself comfortable, the sheet being tugged underneath his weight – and Jonghyun realized that this might have been the worst decision of his life.  
  
He could feel every minute movement that Minho made.  
  
So there they were, crammed into Jonghyun’s tiny bed in a dark room and Jonghyun could feel Minho just behind him, knew that if he reached back he’d be met with the solid mass of Minho’s muscles and his god forsaken sculpted bare chest because clearly Jonghyun was a masochist and wanted to make himself suffer. He bit back a whimper and curled in on himself even more.  
  
It felt like hours before either of them moved. Jonghyun didn’t have a clock in his room and his insomnia had seriously warped his perception of time when the lights went off, but even so quite some time had to have passed. He felt Minho’s hand sneak around his waist and his toes curled, anticipation crawling up into his throat from his stomach.  
  
“Hyung?” Minho’s forehead hit the base of Jonghyun’s neck, his skin burning against Jonghyun’s.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I’m worried about Taemin.” His voice came out a weak whisper, small and scared.  
  
Jonghyun covered Minho’s hand with his own, giving it a light squeeze. “I know. I am too,” he sighed. “But he’s gonna be all right. We’ll make sure of it.”  
  
Jonghyun didn’t think his words would be much comfort, but it was good to hear the hope in Minho’s voice as he said, “yeah. We’ll look out for him.”  
  
-  
  
After a good night’s rest and another round of painkillers, Taemin was back to his normal sarcastic, snarky self. That meant trouble for everyone involved, but that was to be expected.  
  
“We should get a bell,” Taemin remarked to Jonghyun from the living room. He was lying down on the couch watching television while Jonghyun and Minho cooked him breakfast. “That way, if I need anything I can just ring the bell and you can come running.”  
  
Minho snorted. “Yeah, like that’ll happen,” he said quietly to Jonghyun so that Taemin wouldn’t hear. Raising his voice, he called to Taemin, “whatever you want, Taeminnie.”  
  
“You spoil him,” Jonghyun chided, piling toast onto a plate.  
  
They were decidedly not pulling out the stops for this breakfast: it was a complicated meal of toast and cereal, compliments of whatever the fuck they had in the cupboards.  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Minho said, grinning as he bumped shoulders with Jonghyun. Their kitchen was way too small. “We all do.”  
  
“Yeah, Taemin’s just a spoiled little brat,” Jonghyun called, projecting so that Taemin would hear him.  
  
He was met with Taemin’s hand shooting up from behind the couch, his middle finger raised.  
  
Juggling all the plates and bowls, the two made their way out to the living room. They took the other couch, letting Taemin stay stretched out on the one he was on; it was important for him to have a lot of rest, a fact that he reminded them of at regular intervals.  
  
Jonghyun handed Taemin a plate of toast and sat back to dig into his extravagant breakfast of cornflakes, spoon clinking against the bowl as his attention shifted to the cartoons playing on the television. You were never too old for cartoons, and Jonghyun would attest vehemently to that.  
  
Next to him, Minho was eating quietly and Jonghyun slurped at the milk in his spoon noisily just to spite him. Minho didn’t seem to notice and Jonghyun scowled. On the other couch, Taemin was making a mess of himself, crumbs spilling all over the front of his shirt as he ate while lying down. Great – now their floor was going to be even more dirty because Jonghyun knew Taemin sure as hell wasn’t going to clean that shit up.  
  
When cartoons blended into terrible preteen shows, Jonghyun and Minho cleaned up the plates and bowls, tossing them into the sink to be dealt with another day. Minho had given Taemin another pain killer and exhaustion and laziness had weighted down his eyelids. He was dozing on the couch, feather-soft snores filling the room as Minho flipped through the channels. The heat of the day was permeating the air, making everything slow and sleepy and Jonghyun considered pulling a Taemin and taking a nap right there on the couch.  
  
Minho’s foot bumped against Jonghyun’s leg as the younger boy laid back, head cushioned by the arm of the couch as he stretched out.  
  
“Um.” Jonghyun stared pointedly at Minho’s foot. “Do you think you own this couch or something?”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry, hyung.” Minho’s eyes were wide with mock surprise. “Am I taking up too much room?”  
  
“Uh. Yeah. Like, all of it,” Jonghyun deadpanned.  
  
“C’mere then.” Minho opened his arms wide, making little motioning gestures with his hands, his face bright and insistent.  
  
Sighing like it was the most troublesome thing in the world, Jonghyun laid back against Minho’s chest, his legs stretched out beside Minho’s but woefully stopping somewhere around the other boy’s ankles. He ignored it in favor of suppressing the tingle crawling up his spine as Minho’s arms settled around his waist.  
It was way too hot for any sort of cuddling nonsense, a fact that passed over both their heads.  
  
Jonghyun settled his head back against Minho’s chest, nestling in like a puppy. Cuddling was not worth it unless done right with reckless abandon; you had to commit if you wanted to cuddle and Minho was a cuddly kind of guy, which worked in Jonghyun’s favor. Minho’s head settled over top of his and Jonghyun relaxed against him, tiny sniffing sounds coming from him every few seconds.  
  
Minho used a different shampoo than him – they were different people, obviously – but Jonghyun had never smelled it this close, this heavy, this soon after a shower. It was the best thing he had ever smelled. There were all these scents mixed up around Jonghyun, all of them combining into  _Minho_  and surrounding him and making Jonghyun’s head dizzy, tiny bubbles of content fizzing and popping in his brain as he took in the scent.  
  
“Uh, everything alright?”  
  
“Shit, you smell really good,” Jonghyun muttered, tilting his head up and back. He’d closed his eyes at some point and his mind insistently whispered _stop, Jonghyun, that’s gay_ , but he couldn’t stop smelling Minho. His nose was practically pressed against Minho’s jaw and he inhaled deeply, smelling the aftershave that Minho must have used this morning. Jonghyun didn’t even know what was playing on the TV anymore.  
  
When Jonghyun started nosing back against his jaw, practically turning around in the other boy’s lap, Minho’s hands tensed against his stomach. That jolted Jonghyun back to reality. He coughed, starkly pretending that none of that had ever happened,  _ever_ , and turned back to the television, face burning almost as hot as Minho’s hands against his sides. But Minho didn’t move his hands and, when he relaxed a few moments later, Jonghyun figured they were good. He hoped they were good.  
  
-  
  
Taemin’s wrist was bruised along the jutting bone, a blue so bright it almost looked unreal. They had wrapped it loosely in bandages, forgoing a homemade splint in favor of telling Taemin, “just don’t move it, dude”. Jinki’s mother could help fix Taemin up, if he needed her to; she was good with things like that. Jonghyun hadn’t seen Taemin’s ribs since the night before but, if he were being honest, he really didn’t want to. Taemin took it all in stride, as he did with everything, and was graceful about the pain until someone was in earshot and he wanted to wheedle something out of them.  
  
Jinki came to pick Taemin up that night, and Taemin hugged Jonghyun and Minho in turn, casual snideness melting away into a sincere gesture of thanks. Minho ruffled Taemin’s hair and Jonghyun felt a goopy warmth enveloping his heart. Call him a sap, but he loved the hell out of his friends.  
  
With the goodbyes all said and done and the front door securely locked, Jonghyun and Minho made their way to bed, back in their own rooms once more. Jonghyun heard the click of Minho’s door as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, mouth filled with toothpaste suds. Of course they were going back to their own, separate rooms now that everyone was gone, Jonghyun knew that. He just didn’t know why he wished there was a reason for Minho to stay.  
  
He kept the lights off as he walked into his room, eyes slowly adjusting as he shuffled his way over to his bed. He collapsed onto his mattress dully, face buried in the pillow as he took a deep breath. Jonghyun pretended he could smell Minho on the sheets and then pointedly shook that thought away.  
  
Still, he couldn’t help but feel lonely, curled up in the middle of his small bed that had never felt so big before.  
  
-  
  
None of them were ever away from each other long, and Taemin was back again soon, Jinki and Kibum in tow. Taemin sported a shiny new bandage on his wrist and boasted loudly about how much food Jinki’s mom was giving him.  
  
“Yah!” Kibum yelled, cuffing Taemin on the head lightly. “You’re not an invalid. Stop bumming off Jinki hyung and taking advantage of his mom.”  
  
Taemin maturely stuck his tongue out in response.  
  
Jonghyun looked around the room and noticed that Minho still hadn’t come back yet. Without any fanfare, he got up and walked down the hall, looking for the other boy. Minho had left some time ago, stating that he’d needed to get something from his room and then he’d just…never come back. The others either hadn’t noticed or they’d just let it go but Jonghyun was feeling jittery and sitting still was not on the menu.  
  
Minho’s doorway was halfway open –  _halfway closed_ , he thought – and Jonghyun pushed it open slowly. He peeked his head in and there Minho was, back to the door, sitting on his bed with his hands in his lap as he stared at the wall. Jonghyun sat down next to him and looked at the wall thoughtfully, trying to get his head into the same space. But instead of going along with the joke, Minho just continued staring straight ahead.  
  
Jonghyun nudged him. “Hey,” he said quietly. “What’s up?”  
  
Minho sighed, eyes closing slowly. “Nothing.”  
  
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” Jonghyun’s voice was gentle, trying not to pry but wanting to know why Minho hadn’t come back.  
  
“It’s okay. You don’t need me out there.”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about? Yeah, we do.” Jonghyun poked him in the arm. “You know we do.”  
  
“I just…kind of don’t want to be around everyone right now.”  
  
“I get that,” Jonghyun said, flopping backwards onto the bed. “Solitude. Silence. Being alone.” He rolled over onto his side, head propped on one hand as he grinned at Minho. “Let’s be alone together.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s really how it works, hyung.”  
  
Finally, a smile was working its way onto his face. Jonghyun watched the crease between Minho’s eyes fade away and tapped a finger on the sheets.  
  
“We’ll make our own rules then.”  
  
Minho’s face was soft as he lied back on the bed next to Jonghyun, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Jonghyun’s nerves prodded at him to break the silence, to fill it in with noise and movement, but the atmosphere in the room dictated a comfortable camaraderie, so Jonghyun kept quiet. Minho’s fingers were laced across his stomach and his thumbs drummed uncomfortably against the back of his hands.  
  
Jonghyun reached out, hand laid over Minho’s for just a second before he pulled one away, bringing it close to him. He played with it idly, examining the callouses on Minho’s fingers and the lines on his palm. He knew that Minho wondered what he was doing, could feel Minho’s eyes on his from the way the other boy had turned his head, but he knew Minho wouldn’t ask. So he kept tracing the indentions on Minho’s skin increasingly lighter until Minho’s hand twitched in his.  
  
“That tickle?” Jonghyun asked, a mischievous lilt in his voice. He kept his eyes on Minho’s hand.  
  
Forgoing words, Minho rolled over to the side, catching Jonghyun’s hand in his. He tugged and Jonghyun lost balance, face planting into the mattress as Minho rolled over him. Jonghyun knew what was coming next, even before Minho’s fingers fell to his sides and started tickling. He bucked once, laughter bubbling from his mouth as Minho’s fingers raced up and down his sensitive sides.  
  
Minho’s attack was short lived though, and soon he was rolling off of Jonghyun just the slightest bit, glued to Jonghyun’s side as his arms came up to pull him close. He kept Jonghyun in a vice-like grip, his legs joining the full body hug as they locked around Jonghyun’s ankles. Jonghyun pushed at Minho’s face, smooshing his cheeks just for appearances sake. He couldn’t very well make it look like he’d already given up so easy, even if it was true.  
Minho buried his face in Jonghyun’s hair.  
  
“Can you stay here, hyung?” His voice was soft and low and Jonghyun felt the vibrations from his chest ringing through his body, all the way down to his fingertips.  
  
“I thought you wanted to be alone?” Jonghyun teased.  
  
“I changed my mind,” Minho said. Jonghyun thought his hold got just the smallest bit tighter. “Didn’t you say we’d be alone together?”  
  
Jonghyun felt weird. A heavy, oppressive air had settled around them and it left Jonghyun feeling antsy. He could feel every inch of Minho’s body pressed against him, the warmth of his skin, the brush of his clothing, the scratch of his hair. Jonghyun felt like his heart was vibrating in his chest. With Minho this close, this warm, Jonghyun needed to break up the unobtrusive tension before he did something stupid.  
  
So instead, he did quite possibly the stupidest thing he could have done.  
  
“You know you're the only one I want” he said, twisting and grabbing Minho through his pants.  
  
Like any normal person (even though it didn’t seem normal because Jonghyun’s brain wasn’t working properly), Minho proceeded to freak the fuck out. He wrenched away from Jonghyun, throwing himself off the bed as he stood in the middle of the room, arms up and blocking him from Jonghyun like a protective barrier.  
  
“What the fuck, hyung?” He shouted, voice cracking. His eyes were wide and Jonghyun thought he saw just the tiniest tremble in Minho’s hands.  
  
“I –”  
  
“Everything okay in there?” Jinki called from the other room.  
  
“We’re fine!” Jonghyun yelled back quickly and, before Minho could say anything, he rushed out to the living room.  
  
Jonghyun would like to say that, as a 25 year old man, he wasn’t running away but really that was exactly what he was doing. Tensions had been running high between him and Minho for far longer than Jonghyun was comfortable with and, unlike Jonghyun had planned, he had only succeeded in making things more tense and awkward.  
  
Neither of them said anything about it, and when Minho came into the room a few minutes later, Jonghyun figured they were just going to clumsily ignore the fact that it had ever happened at all. (There was no way he was going to confirm with Minho whether that was the case or not.) No one asked any questions and it seemed like things were just going to go on as normal as they possibly could.  
  
That was until Jinki and Kibum had left and Jonghyun had gone to the bathroom, leaving Taemin and Minho a chance to speak privately. Jonghyun rounded the corner carelessly, making his way aimlessly toward the living room until he heard Taemin’s quiet whisper from the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop but honestly, Jonghyun couldn’t give a fuck at the moment.  
  
“Do you think Jonghyun hyung’s acting weird?”  
  
“Weird like how?”  
  
“Like he wants your dick.”  
  
Jonghyun almost choked, his heart stopping as he hid behind the wall, gripping the corner like a child. He strained his ears, anxious to hear how Minho would reply; if Taemin had noticed – and Jonghyun hadn’t exactly been covert but he hadn’t been trying to be obvious either – then wouldn’t Minho have noticed too? And if he’d noticed then – oh god.  
  
Jonghyun had grabbed his dick today. It had been a joke and he’d been trying to lighten the atmosphere but he’d still totally grabbed Minho’s dick through his pants. Oh god. Jonghyun was going to throw up.  
  
“What are you talking about, Taemin?”  
  
Taemin huffed loudly and, even in his distress, Jonghyun could imagine him throwing his hands up in the air, despite his bruised ribs.  
  
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how jumpy he’s been!” Jonghyun heard footsteps and his stomach leapt into his throat before he realized that Taemin was just pacing. “He’s totally weird around you –  _just_  you.”  
  
“I think you’re overthinking this.”  
  
“No. I think  _you’re_  just not thinking. Look – I don’t care if he wants to jump your bones, just do something about this. It’s getting awkward for the rest of us, seeing you two dance around each other all the time.”  
  
 _What?_  
  
Jonghyun’s heart was thundering so hard around his ribcage that Jonghyun was afraid he wasn’t going to be able to hear anything. That, or he’d get so dizzy that he’d black out and they’d find him crumpled on the floor in the hallway. How embarrassing would that be? Jonghyun shuddered.  
  
“I’m not – I’m handling this, Taemin.”  
  
“Hell of a job, you’re doing.” Taemin sounded just about as done as Jonghyun’s heart was.  
  
He snuck back into his room on shaky legs, closing the door so slowly that he almost thought he’d never hear the faint  _click_  of the doorknob sliding back into place.  
  
Taemin knew. Jinki and Kibum probably knew.  _Minho_  knew.  
  
Minho knew and now things were going to get even worse and Minho was probably going to avoid him because Jonghyun had  _touched his dick_  and he hadn’t meant it like that but now that Minho knew he was going to think that Jonghyun had done it on purpose because friends didn’t like each other like that and then practically stick their hand down their friend’s pants.  
  
Jonghyun’s thoughts spun out of control as he curled up on his bed, sick to his stomach and worried out of his mind. Minho was one of his best friends and Jonghyun didn’t want to ever lose that, even if it meant he had to learn how to keep his mouth shut and his hands to himself.  
  
He heard the slam of the front door, meaning that Taemin must have left. Jonghyun dreaded what would come next but even so he listened closely to Minho’s footsteps coming down the hall. They stopped short of Jonghyun’s door – as they should – and Minho’s door creaked a little as it closed. Jonghyun let out a shaky breath, trembling like a leaf in the wind as he tried to hold back confused, embarrassed tears.  
  
-  
  
Jonghyun was bored. Jonghyun was bored and Minho was still asleep, dead to the world until late afternoon as he had been ever since the weather had turned from tepid to boiling lava. It wasn’t that Jonghyun couldn’t entertain himself, it was just that the day was so beautiful and Minho really should be up to see it. Or something.  
  
(Truthfully, Jonghyun just wanted someone else to be his entertainment instead of actually trying and Minho just happened to be the only one around.)  
  
Deciding to be a menace and get Minho to wake up before the sun set for once, he crept into Minho’s room. He was blasted with the stale, stifling heat of a room that had been circulating the same air overnight and he felt it catch in his throat. Didn’t Minho know how to open a window? (Jonghyun was one to talk.) He tiptoed to Minho’s bed, almost tripping over a discarded shirt and giving himself away, thus ruining the whole covert mission. But he caught himself at the last second and besides, Minho could probably sleep through a hurricane if he tried hard enough.  
  
Jonghyun was about to pull the blanket back when he caught sight of Minho’s face, resting against the pillow, messy hair pushed back at tangled, odd angles. Jonghyun stood there, mesmerized by the sweat and oil spread across Minho’s glistening face. It should have been disgusting – it was – but there was something almost beautiful about it.  
  
Jonghyun wanted to gag. He found Minho’s gross sweaty face attractive. There had to be something wrong with his head.  
  
Shaking his head, Jonghyun resolved to complete his mission and ripped the blanket off of Minho, ready to pounce and wrestle the other boy out of bed. And stopped.  
  
“Oh,” he said, eyes zeroing in on the tent in the front of Minho’s pants.  
  
And then it hit him that Minho was shirtless and clothed in only boxers and his hair was messy and he was sweaty and this was possibly what he would look like if Jonghyun ever had the impossible chance to get him into bed.  
  
His breath was ripped out of him, a powerful vice constricting his chest as Minho’s eyes blinked open sluggishly. He was staring at Jonghyun, eyes half lidded and lips puffy and Jonghyun could not do this.  
  
“Hyung?” Minho’s voice was sleepy and thick and confused and Jonghyun felt a terrible throb pound through his body as he tripped out the door.  
  
He didn’t want to think about what Minho was thinking right now. He didn’t want to think about how strange he’d acted and what that could possibly fuck up between them. And he certainly didn’t want to think about how good Minho had looked and how much he wanted to drop to his knees right in front of the other boy.  
  
Jonghyun slammed the bathroom door closed and wrenched on the shower. Steam quickly filled the tiny room and he tore his shirt off, pants dropping to the floor, and Jonghyun felt guilty as he pushed his boxers past the head of his dick but he couldn’t help it anymore. He’d opened a floodgate and now all the things he’d repressed, all the things he’d tried not to think about for weeks (and weeks and maybe months, maybe years if he was going to be absolutely, completely honest with himself) were breaking through.  
  
The shower door slid shut behind him.  
  
Jonghyun braced a forearm against the wall and wrapped his hand around himself. He drew in a shuddering breath, mind swirling with thoughts and images, and his body was hot as he pumped himself once, slowly. He imagined what it would feel like if Minho was behind him, chest pressed against his shoulder blades and chin hooked over his shoulder. Minho's hand was bigger than Jonghyun's, his fingers longer, and Jonghyun's hand started moving over his dick as he thought about Minho, sleepy and sweaty back in his room.  
  
Then, unbidden, the thought slammed into him that, with Jonghyun in the shower, Minho would have all the privacy he needed to take care of the little problem that had caused Jonghyun all of this trouble. He could see it, burning behind his eyelids; Minho dropping his head back onto his pillow after Jonghyun left, his eyes slipping closed as he tried to fall back asleep. But then he'd feel the discomfort that he couldn't ignore and, hearing the shower start up, he'd slip one hand beneath the hem of his shorts. He would grip himself, just like Jonghyun was doing, and he'd move his hand, nice and slow and easy.  
  
Jonghyun groaned, forehead falling against the cool tiles as he remembered what Minho felt like against his hand. Even through Minho's pants, even in just that second, he'd felt how big he was and it made Jonghyun ache, made his hand tighten around his dick as he stroked faster. It took him one, two, three more strokes with the image of Minho's back arching from the bed seared into his mind before his whole body tensed and Jonghyun was shooting his load all over the wall in front of him.  
  
The water pounded against his back, steady and scalding as he watched his own come drip down the wall. Disgusted and embarrassed – Minho was just down the hall asleep, despite whatever scenario Jonghyun's mind conjured – Jonghyun directed the shower spray towards it, body still wired and tense as he watched it swirl down the drain. He scrubbed himself down quickly. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to look Minho in the eye for the rest of the day with those bedroom eyes staring back at him from inside his mind.  
  
-  
  
Jonghyun was in the kitchen slicing up a chunk of watermelon. Minho was at the table, regaling him with the tale of an exciting adventure that he and Kibum had downtown and Jonghyun nodded along appropriately, even as he made a mental note to get them all to go out bowling. Lame, but extremely fun.  
Then a car horn blared outside and his hand slipped, nicking his finger.  
  
“Ow!”  
  
He dropped the knife onto the counter and brought his finger up to his face to examine it more closely. It wasn't deep, thankfully, but it did sting a little and there was blood beading from the thin mark.  
  
“You okay?” Minho stood up despite Jonghyun waving him away and telling him to sit back down because  _I'm fine, it's really shallow. Don't worry about it_.  
  
Minho grabbed Jonghyun's hand and examined it himself, twisting it this way and that, and Jonghyun realized about half a second before what Minho was going to do. His heart lurched in his chest and got caught somewhere in his esophagus as Minho brought Jonghyun's finger to his mouth. Minho's lips parted around it before Jonghyun's finger was slipping into his mouth, a wet warmth closing around the digit.  
  
Jonghyun's eyes were wide and he stared just long enough to see Minho's eyes lower, to see his throat working just the slightest bit. When Minho's tongue touched to the tip of his finger, Jonghyun thought he was going to lose his mind. He could feel the wet slide of it against the tip of his finger and his mind was catapulted into another place, another time, another  _what if_.  
  
Jonghyun couldn't look at him. Eye contact would have made the whole experience even more intense – not to mention awkward – and it would have been too direct, too close, too much. Plus, if Jonghyun saw Minho staring back at him, tongue wrapped around Jonghyun's finger like it was something else, Jonghyun would have exploded in his pants. No thank you. (He was already too close for comfort, as embarrassing as that was.)  
  
With a slow slide out, Minho released Jonghyun's finger.  
  
“Make sure to wash that out.”  
  
He turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jonghyun sputtering after him.  
  
Jonghyun was a lost cause after that. He couldn't stop seeing everything Minho did as something dirty and suggestive and Jonghyun was not in high school anymore he really should be able to control his boners but Minho made it  _really_  difficult.  
  
Jonghyun had unknowingly stepped into very dangerous territory. When Minho had moved in with him, this sort of magnetic, thunderous attraction had never once been a concern. Now – well, now it was all he could think about. He was hyper aware of every movement Minho made, every little twitch of his fingers, the swing of his arms, the weight of his footsteps. Jonghyun could probably close his eyes and still paint a perfect picture of Minho for all the staring he'd been doing.  
  
It didn't help that Minho seemed to stick around wherever Jonghyun was. He didn't seem to be doing it on purpose – thank god – but that didn't change the fact that he was still always  _there_. Jonghyun was on the couch when Minho sat down, a bottle of water in his hands. He didn't think much of it, tried to focus on the game he was playing instead of watching Minho lean back with the bottle innocuously held between his legs. Seriously, what the hell.  
  
Jonghyun thumbed the controls, halfheartedly attacking the computer controlled player. He wasn't really into it but he tried to make it seem like he was just casually lazy and not thinking about his roommate's dick. Which he wasn't – thinking about Minho's dick, that is. He was totally casually lazy; calm, cool, and collected.  
  
From the corner of his eye, Jonghyun saw Minho shift as he unscrewed the cap of the bottle and all at once his attention was sucked away from the game.  
Minho had his lips wrapped around the rim in a startling reminiscence of earlier that day and Jonghyun was distantly aware of swallowing. Then, in the cruelest display of hands free nonchalance that Jonghyun had ever seen, Minho clenched his teeth around the bottle and tipped his head back, throat working slowly as he drank. An 8-bit  _ping_  brought Jonghyun back to reality as he forcefully dragged his attention back to the screen. He had died. His character lay pitifully on the ground, defeated by the computer, and it was all because Minho had drank a stupid bottle of water.  
  
“This is all your fault,” he muttered darkly.  
  
Needless to say, he left Minho a little confused.  
  
They didn't move much after that; they were, after all, young men enjoying the springtime of their youth. Jonghyun attempted to play more games with moderately more success and Minho...did whatever it was that he did as Jonghyun routinely avoided looking over at him. They talked a bit, but mostly Minho watched Jonghyun play games in silence until Jonghyun switched the console off and took out his phone instead.  
  
At some point, the light outside dipped into darkness and Minho apparently decided to call it a day.  
  
“I'm turning in early,” Minho said, rising from the couch.  
  
“See you later, alligator,” Jonghyun murmured absently. He was focused on his phone and tapping back a clever, snappy reply to Taemin's teasing.  
  
Jonghyun felt a warm hand slide over the back of his neck, resting there comfortably. He looked up to see Minho smiling down at him.  
  
“In a while, crocodile.”  
  
And then, with a soft, coy little smile curling at the edges of his lips, Minho disappeared down the hall. Jonghyun felt the imprint of Minho's hand burning into his skin for the rest of the night.  
  
-  
  
“So you're trying to tell me that velociraptors had feathers?”  
  
“Yeah. Birds came from dinosaurs, you know,” Jinki said, matter of factly.  
  
“Okay, but raptors?” Jonghyun said skeptically.  
  
“Yep. The T-Rex probably did too.”  
  
“What.”  
  
“No way,” Taemin butted in.  
  
“Way.”  
  
“Then Jurassic Park got it wrong.”  
  
“If you boys are done with your dinosaurs,” Kibum said, stretching. “Then we can get started.”  
  
“Anyone have anything else to add?” Jonghyun asked as he looked around the room.  
  
“Pterodactyls weren't dinosaurs,” Minho added.  
  
“What were they then?”  
  
“Pterosaurs.”  
  
“Okay!” Jonghyun interrupted. “We're done with this conversation now.”  
  
He had a lot to think about (and maybe a couple of questions to ask Jinki and Minho later, if he remembered). Tonight was game night and the menu was Monopoly. Truthfully, Jonghyun didn't know why they always chose to play this because Jinki always loaded up on hotels and bought all the railroads, Taemin always bought Park Place, and Jonghyun was the first to go bankrupt because he landed on it. Every. Single. Time. It was like fucking clockwork.  
  
But still, that was what they'd chosen and soon the table was scattered with fake money and beer cans. (You really couldn't play this without getting at least a little tipsy.) And of course, the damn game played out exactly as it always did – Jinki and Taemin either had ridiculous luck or they were performing some kind of witchcraft – and Jonghyun was dropped first, followed closely by Minho, then Kibum, and then finally Jinki as Taemin reigned supreme once more. Jonghyun would like to say that the game had finished quickly but, as was always the case with Monopoly, it took about four hours and a lot of screaming before anyone ever won.  
  
“Good game, good game,” Taemin cackled, fanning himself with a huge wad of fake money.  
  
“Oh, go shove it up your ass,” Jonghyun grumbled, grinning in spite of himself. A beat later, he was pushing out of his chair and looking around the table. “I'm still feeling energized. Who's up for a round of karaoke?”  
  
“Think I'm gonna sit this one out, man,” Jinki said apologetically.  
  
“Yeah, I have to help my parents out at the shop tomorrow morning.” Kibum shrugged at Jonghyun.  
  
“What about you, Taemin?”  
  
“Jinki's my ride,” he said simply.  
  
“You guys are no fun,” Jonghyun pouted.  
  
Minho laid a hand on his shoulder. “I'll go with you, hyung.”  
  
Jonghyun smiled beatifically at him then turned back to the rest of the table.  
  
“Minho's my favorite,” he boasted.  
  
“We already knew that,” Kibum muttered under his breath to the other two.  
  
Minho caught it and grinned, and Jonghyun huffed to cover up his embarrassment. They knew nothing.  
  
(They knew everything.)  
  
The other three bid their goodbyes and Jonghyun and Minho made their way out. The evening air was oddly cool and Jonghyun shrugged his jacket over his shoulders as they walked.  
  
“You gonna be okay?” He asked Minho. The other boy had on just a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.  
  
“I'll be fine.” Minho bumped his hand against Jonghyun's. “If I get too cold we can just snuggle.”  
  
Jonghyun's heart stuttered and his hands were half way up, prepared to push Minho, before he caught Minho's grin. Instead, Jonghyun dropped his hands and knocked shoulders with him; sometimes the things Minho said really tripped him up and Jonghyun thought he was getting worse at hiding it. For what it was worth, Minho at least acted like he didn't notice. (Because Jonghyun was coming to terms with the fact that it was impossible not to notice now.)  
  
The walk to the karaoke bar was too short to justify driving but just long enough for Jonghyun to start getting nervous. He was going to be alone with Minho for an extended period of time, and he had been multiple times in the last few weeks – but there was something about going out together, just the two of them, that set his nerves a jumble. But if there was one thing that always calmed him down it was music, and Jonghyun was prepared to sing his heart out.  
  
But definitely not to Minho. Just – in general.  
  
After they were settled in their own room, that’s when the party really began. Jonghyun started off the round, eager to give his voice a trial run; it had been too long since he’d gotten a chance to really sing – none of this singing in the shower nonsense – and he looked forward to it. Music really had been his first love, after all.  
Minho was content to sit back and let Jonghyun go at it for a couple of songs, nursing a beer in his hands as Jonghyun belted out ballad after pop song after rock song. Jonghyun was putting his voice through its paces and once he was happy enough with the results, he handed the mic over to Minho. Unlike Jonghyun, Minho preferred to take a more laid back approach for his first few songs, seated comfortably on the couch instead of out in the middle of the room.  
Jonghyun popped the cap off his own bottle and sat back to listen.  
  
Minho's voice really wasn't too bad, especially when he loosened up a little and stopped being so timid about it. He just needed more confidence in himself.  
They traded back and forth like that for a while, counting the time they were racking up in the room by the length of the songs. Money wasn’t exactly something that was easy to come by for either of them but it didn’t hurt to splurge a little every once in a while. The table was becoming cluttered with bottles by the time they both took a seat, a little winded from their enthusiastic duet.  
  
Some time earlier, Jonghyun had procured a shot glass from who knows where, and he poured himself another one.  
  
“Here’s looking at you kid,” he said, winking at Minho before he knocked it back.  
  
Minho was quick to follow suit and Jonghyun was vaguely appreciative of the fact that they walked because, with the way things were going, they were going to be smashed by the time they left. That was all fine and dandy, though, because they were winding down bit by bit and the songs were getting slower and more meaningful and it was probably best if Jonghyun could blame it on the alcohol.  
  
He didn’t know when exactly he became aware of how dim the lights were, despite the flashing display screen, or how close they were seated, or the way the alcohol shined off Minho’s lips. But when he realized all those things, his whole body became tight, coiled up like a spring just waiting to expand.  
  
Minho seemed keyed in to that exact moment because he dipped his head to stare at Jonghyun, his voice becoming low and familiar as he said, “so I hear someone can become a bit of a kissing monster when they’ve had a little too much to drink.”  
  
Jonghyun felt the heat in him run cold instantly. “Kibum told you.”  
  
“He might have mentioned it,” Minho remarked, leaning back on his hands.  
  
“Minho – .”  
  
“Look, Jonghyun,” he interrupted. “It’s not a big deal.”  
  
Jonghyun looked away, too scared to see Minho’s face. He was going to kill Kibum for blabbing something like this.  
  
Minho’s hand came up, touched Jonghyun’s cheek so gently that he almost couldn’t feel it. He was staring at Jonghyun, the light of the screen hitting his profile, and Jonghyun could not remember a time that Minho had looked more striking.  
  
“I don’t mind,” Minho said. His voice was a deep rumble, somewhere in between a whisper and a promise and Jonghyun couldn’t take it anymore.  
  
His hand reached up slowly and looped around Minho’s neck. He could feel the short hairs at the base of his neck and he rubbed his fingers against them slowly, heart pounding in his chest. He was afraid that Minho would move, would push him away, would stare at him in disgust. Instead, when Jonghyun raised his eyes, Minho was staring right back at him, big eyes deeper than Jonghyun had ever seen them.  
  
“I don’t mind,” Minho repeated and Jonghyun moved.  
  
He didn’t know if he or Minho had moved closer first, but as Jonghyun tugged Minho down, he could feel Minho’s knees slipping in between his. It was an awkward angle, the two of them half turned toward each other on the beaten up leather sofa, but Jonghyun couldn’t find a single ounce in him to care about that as his lips finally,  _finally_ , brushed against Minho’s.  
  
They were as dry and cracked as they looked and Minho tasted like every drop of alcohol they’d both consumed that night and it was the best thing Jonghyun had ever felt. He wouldn’t say it was perfect, with the strobing light blinding him from the screen and the edge of the table digging into his side, but it was pretty damn close because of the sole fact that it was Minho.  
  
Their mouths slid together once, twice, before Minho pulled back just the tiniest bit. He looked at Jonghyun, hand still fisted loosely in Jonghyun’s shirt, and smiled with that sly look in his eyes that meant trouble. (Jonghyun had always liked trouble.)  
  
“You’re not gonna call this an accident are you?”  
  
“Just shut up,” Jonghyun muttered. And then he was pulling Minho forward once more.


	6. Chapter 6

Things were different out in the light. The next morning, without the mesmerizing effects of the lights or the woozy influence of alcohol or the feeling of being trapped between the plush leather sofa and Minho’s arms, the only thing Jonghyun felt was scared. Seconds after opening his eyes and realizing he was in bed – alone, thank god – Jonghyun was hit with a wave of blind panic. Oh god, what the fuck had he done last night. He’d kissed Minho. He’d _kissed Minho_.  
  
Jonghyun had finally given into his heart and he’d actually fucking kissed the other boy and now there was no going back. No, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t wake up to heartbreak, because the minute Minho remembered what they did – if he even remembered at all – Jonghyun was fucked.  
  
Minho didn’t like him.  
  
Minho didn’t like him and Jonghyun  _was not_  gay. This had been a recipe for disaster and Jonghyun was never drinking again because clearly he fucked up and did stupid things and even people like Choi Minho weren’t exempt from that. Minho didn’t like him because Minho didn’t like boys, so clearly this was the influence of alcohol at work; not to mention, Jonghyun  _definitely_  wasn’t gay and so Minho, like Jonghyun, was going to come to the terrible realization that they had made a mistake.  
  
Because Jonghyun couldn’t kiss boys, he couldn’t want to kiss boys. And Minho had never wanted to in the first place. So it was just something in that room last night, the atmosphere and the lights and the way it felt to be sitting next to each other. Minho hadn’t kissed Jonghyun because he’d wanted to, no way.  
  
Jonghyun’s mini panic attack was interrupted by a slow, dull throb in his head. He hadn’t drunk that much last night –  _yes, you did_ , his mind convinced him – but his head was turning into a disgusting boiling pot of thick goo, sticking to the inside of his head. It dragged him down, made him feel small and helpless, like he was a weak elementary school kid cowering in front of his angry dad after a bad report card. No, he didn’t want to think about his dad – he didn’t want to think about anything.  
  
There wasn’t a problem. Jonghyun wasn’t gay and neither was Minho and no one would find out because Jonghyun wasn’t going to tell anyone. Minho probably didn’t remember, anyway. Who would care about remembering something like that, right? And besides, maybe Jonghyun’s addled brain just made it up. He was lacking sleep and he’d be drinking and all of that so maybe…maybe it hadn’t even happened. Jonghyun’s brain perked up weakly at that.  
  
Dragging himself into the shower, Jonghyun decided that he’d just forget that yesterday night had even happened at all. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d see Minho and they’d both act like normal – because it was a normal, regular, not in the least bit out of the ordinary day – and then they’d go hang out with the guys and everything would be cool. They wouldn’t talk about it because there was nothing to talk about.  
  
The reality didn’t flow as smoothly as the scene Jonghyun had painted in his head.  
  
He ran into Minho as he was coming out of the bathroom. Minho’s hair was a mess and his boxers were bunched around his thighs and Jonghyun’s resolve almost crumbled right then and there. But he could do this, he could move past this and he wouldn’t think about the shadows dipping between the muscles on Minho’s chest or his arms or his legs. And he would absolutely, under no circumstances, think about Minho’s lips, puffy from sleep, and how he could kiss them again, already knowing what they felt like.  
  
Yeah. None of that would be happening.  
  
And as always, Minho dashed those expectations without even trying. It was stupid because he didn’t even hardly look at Jonghyun, his eyes squinted and swollen from sleep, but when he brushed past Jonghyun to get in the bathroom he managed to shake him up even worse. Jonghyun stepped out of the way just enough for Minho to get in and he thought he was in the clear until Minho’s hand came up. Jonghyun belatedly thought that Minho hadn’t even realized what he was doing as he sidestepped Jonghyun, his hand coming up across Jonghyun’s hip as he moved around him.  
  
If it was just that, Jonghyun would have been okay. But it wasn’t, and Minho’s hand slid across Jonghyun’s stomach, just above the top of his shorts, as he walked into the bathroom. The door was unceremoniously shut and Jonghyun was left standing stupidly in front of the bathroom, brain thrown into chaos and muscles all tensed up, ready to snap back like a rubber band.  
  
After that he played the riveting game of “let’s avoid all questions about last night”. Minho didn’t seem like he needed to bring it up really, seemed comfortable enough with himself and everything that  _didn’t_  happen, but there were still little cues that Jonghyun pretended to miss. The worst of it came that afternoon, when Minho came into his room to let him know something Jinki had said.  
  
“Hyung wants to meet up at his house, today.”  
  
Jonghyun was sitting at his desk, browsing the internet aimlessly and was thoroughly unprepared for Minho bracing his hands on the back of Jonghyun’s chair and leaning over him. The back of Jonghyun’s head bumped against Minho’s chest and then Minho’s face was right next to his, up close and personal and not, like, eighteen feet away like Jonghyun needed it to be.  
  
Jonghyun’s heart was drumming away erratically in his chest as he made a noise of acknowledgement and tried to lean away as subtly as he could.  
  
And instead of moving away like any other functioning, normal human being would, Minho proved his absurd, alien-like nature by continuing to stand  _right there_ , right behind Jonghyun. It must have been about three minutes of silent, uncomfortable stillness as Jonghyun distractedly clicked around on his computer. He could feel Minho’s unwavering attention focused on him. Jonghyun was about ten seconds away from breaking out in a nervous sweat when Minho finally moved.  
  
“Hey,” He murmured, warm hand curling against Jonghyun’s shoulder. “I was thinking tonight maybe we –“  
  
“Oh!” Jonghyun wrenched his body around, interrupting Minho and dislodging his hand. “You should ask Taemin to show you that video he was talking about.”  
  
Minho was staring at him strangely and Jonghyun couldn’t blame him. He was fully aware of how much he was avoiding the issue at hand, but he really could not deal with any of it.  
  
“It was really funny,” he added lamely.  
  
“O-okay.” Minho face showed confusion and maybe, just behind that, a little bit of hurt. Jonghyun tamped down on the guilt and turned back to his computer.  
  
He knew what Minho was trying to do – or, at least he  _thought_  he knew what Minho was trying to do. He was probably just a little embarrassed and he felt bad that he’d allowed Jonghyun to kiss him and now he was trying to make things less awkward. But honestly, Jonghyun would just rather sweep the whole thing under the rug and forget it had ever happened. If it was never going to happen again, what was the use in dwelling on it?  
  
But Minho was never one to play into Jonghyun’s plans. He leaned in, maybe to tell Jonghyun something, maybe to kiss him, maybe for some other reason that Jonghyun’s malfunctioning brain couldn’t comprehend. Jonghyun acted on instinct, frightened mind taking control as he turned his head away.  
  
“Hey!” He exclaimed, like it had been a coincidence and he totally hadn’t actually noticed what Minho had been trying to do. “Look at this! This corgi is so fat!”  
  
Jonghyun shoved his computer in Minho’s face. For the life of him, Jonghyun couldn’t tell you how his fingers had even cooperated in typing, let alone that he’d managed to think of something other than  _“how do you know if you’re gay”_  or  _“how to get a boy to kiss you”_.  
  
Minho left it alone after that.  
  
By the time they left for Jinki’s place, several hours had passed and Minho was cautious around him. He was keeping his distance, no more almost-maybe-kisses, no more touching Jonghyun’s stomach or arms or back, or pushing his way into Jonghyun’s space. Jonghyun knew that this looked strange; the sudden tension, to anyone else, seemed to come out of nowhere and Jonghyun was in no hurry to fix it. He wouldn’t even know how to if he tried – he wasn’t going to address  _the thing_  from last night because it shouldn’t have happened and it wouldn’t again. The two of them would just have to get over it eventually.  
  
They met Kibum and Taemin just outside and when Kibum texted Jinki, they headed to a small fitness park just around the block. Jonghyun preferred this park to any of the others because children were less likely to be running around. He liked kids – just not when they all went out together. It wasn’t just a matter of watching their mouths, they had to watch everything they did. And Jonghyun really needed a smoke right about now.  
  
They settled themselves on a low set of parallel bars and then Jonghyun decided he couldn’t wait any longer.  
  
“Jinki,” he said, keeping his head low and close to the other boy’s.  
  
There must have been something in his tone; that, or Jinki had just known him long enough to read his behavior, because he pulled out his pack and tapped one out for Jonghyun. With a pleased sigh, Jonghyun slipped it between his lips, cupped his hands around the flame as Jinki lit him up.  
  
Jinki held a cigarette between his own lips and was about to slip the pack back into his pocket when Taemin spoke up.  
  
“Yo,” he said, making grabby motions with one hand. “Gimme one.”  
  
Taemin leaned over Jonghyun as Jinki held the lighter out for him and soon the air was smoky, a bitter haze filling in the oppressive silence. Kibum rolled his eyes at them, phone practically glued in his hands. (No surprise there.) Minho, on the other hand, was staring at them disapprovingly, his nose scrunched up and his face stony. (No surprise there either.) In an act of vindictive childishness, Jonghyun exhaled his smoke in Minho’s direction.  
  
None of them were really sure how it happened, how exactly the word got out, but it seemed that whenever the five of them went out together that’s when the other gangs started showing up. Off the top of his head, Jonghyun couldn’t think of one time that they’d been approached separately. Well, whatever.  
  
This one was a measly group, just two scrawny looking guys, and Jonghyun’s mind immediately started to wander as he gauged whether it would even be worth it to stand up for this. Jonghyun was about to push off the bars, Taemin raring to go at his side, when one of the guys stepped forward.  
  
The first thing Jonghyun noticed was that first impressions were deceiving and this guy was not nearly as stringy as he looked from farther away.  
The second thing he noticed was that he wanted to punch the guy’s face in.  
  
He knew this guy. It was the guy that just a few weeks ago he’d pounded into a pulp for fucking up Minho’s shoulder. Jonghyun didn’t know where the other members were and he really didn’t even give a shit because once he recognized the guy’s slimy mug, his blood was boiling.  
  
The fire turned into ash in two seconds flat.  
  
“Which one of you is Minho?”  
  
Beside Jonghyun, the others turned to look at each other curiously, their faces casually questioning. People didn’t usually have beef with anyone other than Jonghyun – because he was the leader – or Taemin (because he was a cheeky little shit that they couldn’t best).  
  
Minho stood up, his hands in his pockets as he stared down his nose at the guy.  
  
“So you’re his boy, then?” The guy said, nodding his head at Jonghyun. Minho glanced back at him, perplexed, and Jonghyun’s stomach dropped all the way to his knees. “He fucked me up good for you, didn’t he?”  
  
The guy was advancing, shoving at Minho’s chest tauntingly. “He your guard dog? Hmm?”  
  
Jonghyun watched, frozen, as Minho’s eyes widened in confusion with each push. This wasn’t happening. No way this was real. Behind him, Taemin stubbed out his cigarette, eyes straight forward; Jonghyun distantly felt his own fall from his fingers, everything seeming like it was happening in some sort of soupy, slow motion.  
  
“Are you just his fuck buddy or are you  _really_  his boy?”  
  
And that’s when things sped back up, crashed in Jonghyun at triple speed. His heart-brain-body stuttered and he shoved past Minho, grit out “what the fuck are you talking about? I’m not fucking gay, you fuckhead.”  
  
He regretted it the second it left his mouth but a rage of guilt and terror was building up inside of him, something burrowing its way into the back of his brain, and it filled him with chills.  
  
Jonghyun wasn’t entirely sure what happened next but his knuckles were bloody by the time Kibum and the other boy were pulling him off the guy. Minho was nowhere to be seen. If anything, that only added to Jonghyun’s delirium, piling up the anxiety high high high until he was sure his eyes were going to roll up into his head and he was going to hit the ground, scramble his brain into a million more pieces than it already was.  
  
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Taemin demanded, pulling him away and spinning him around. Jonghyun felt the ground lurch and almost tipped over right there.  
  
“Hey!” Taemin snapped his fingers in front of Jonghyun’s face. “What the hell’s going on?”  
  
“I can’t –“ Jonghyun’s chest felt tight and he collapsed against the metal bar structure.  
  
Minho didn’t like him, Jonghyun was convinced of that. The only reason he’d kissed Jonghyun was because he’d been drunk and now for sure he was fucking pissed at Jonghyun. For some reason, this made all the sense in the world to Jonghyun and it scared the shit out of him.  
  
Jonghyun wished he could take back what he said, but it was one thing to like another guy and it was a whole other thing to be capital “g” Gay and crushing on one of your best and oldest friends. He was pretty sure he was on the verge of hyperventilating, the world swimming before his eyes as Taemin steadied him.  
  
“Guys, I think we need to get him home,” Taemin called, brows furrowed as he kept a firm grip on Jonghyun’s arms.  
  
Jonghyun couldn’t remember much of the rush home. His head was bombarded with accusations, hissed angry phantom words in his ears, and he was scared, so scared.  
  
He came to himself when they pushed him into a chair, faces crowded around him in worry. Jonghyun almost didn’t realize what was going on for a moment, before it all rushed back to him and, oh yeah, there had been other people there too. Hours of apprehension had already passed by in his head and he felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know how, but what he’d said had hurt Minho, had bothered him enough to disappear and Jonghyun could have punched himself. He hadn’t meant a word of what he’d said, as much as that frightened him.  
  
“Where’s Minho?” was the first thing he asked.  
  
The others passed a look between themselves and Jonghyun felt out of place for one long, wearisome moment.  
  
“He split before you went ape shit,” Kibum said, not one to sugar coat things. “What’s up with you, Jonghyun?”  
  
“I just – need a minute. To myself.” Jonghyun looked around at them almost frantically. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?”  _Or never_.  
  
“Sure,” Jinki agreed. He patted Jonghyun’s hand comfortingly and Jonghyun had never felt more like a wounded animal than he did in that moment. “You gonna be okay?”  
  
“Yeah, I just – yeah. I’ll be good. Fine. I’ll be fine.”  
  
Kibum aimed another look at Jinki, but the older boy just shook his head. With a few murmured reassurances, they waved and headed out the door, Jinki looking back once more when he thought Jonghyun wasn’t looking. Jonghyun really needed to find Minho.  
  
Taemin caught his attention, a sharp but gentle hand coming down on his shoulder.  
  
“Take care, man,” he told Jonghyun quietly. Jonghyun could only nod at him in response.  
  
He took a moment to collect himself, to push the thoughts away for the time being so that his head would be quiet, cleared. He tried to think; where would Minho have gone? Jonghyun tried calling him first, his call going straight to voicemail and that only intensified his worries. Minho always picked up, even if no one else did.  
  
Then there was a light creak from down the hallway. Jonghyun perked up just the tiniest bit – that had to mean that Minho was there. He gathered himself up, pushing away from the kitchen table with an unpleasant screech. Jonghyun winced; he had never cared about the floor before but now his brain was latching onto things to distract himself from what he was about to do.  
  
He knocked on Minho’s door softly, hand shaking.  
  
“Minho?” Jonghyun’s voice wavered as he called out.  
  
He was met with a soft thump and then a thick silence that pressed down on his chest until all Jonghyun felt was a hollow cave in the middle of his body. He stepped away from the door, feet tripping over each other as he listlessly trudged into the bathroom.  
  
Jonghyun could smell the cigarette smoke emanating from his body in this tiny, enclosed room. His disjointed mind made a creaky connection to Minho being mad and him hating the smell of cigarettes and before Jonghyun knew it, he was standing in the middle of the shower. But he didn’t have the strength to even turn it on, too exhausted to keep standing, and he sank to the tiles, legs pulled up to his chest. He buried his face in his knees and the smell was almost overwhelming enough to distract him.  
  
The smoke was in his clothes, in his hair, and all Jonghyun wanted to do was scrub himself raw until he couldn’t smell it anymore. Maybe then Minho would at least come near him then.  
  
-  
  
In hindsight, the way Jonghyun went about it was probably the worst way he could have picked. It made sense at the time: Minho was avoiding him and Jonghyun wanted to talk. Somehow, in Jonghyun’s mind the situation had warped into the complete opposite of what it really was; Jonghyun wanted to apologize and since Minho was being completely irrational and never showed his face, Jonghyun was totally in the right when he started getting pissed. Boy, was he wrong.  
  
Jonghyun had started hanging around, sticking to wherever Minho was like some sort of disease. He couldn’t even recognize the fact that Minho was slowly getting more and more frustrated with him because – in completely reasonable, rational logic – he was trying to create a situation where he could apologize and they could be friendly again.  
  
By the time they finally reached a catalyst, they were both at their boiling point.  
  
“Minho, come on, please,” Jonghyun whined. He chucked miniscule wads of paper in Minho’s direction petulantly, trying and failing to catch his attention. “At least say something.”  
  
Jonghyun had been particularly roundabout in his excursions to jumpstart a conversation. He couldn’t just come right out and say he was sorry, he needed the right mood going – or, in the very least, he needed Minho to break his silence and just fucking say something to him. Anything, even just one word.  
  
For the way Minho was acting, Jonghyun may not have even existed at all. He tossed his book to the side and walked down the hall, passing Jonghyun like he wasn’t there but still managing to avoid his reaching hand. Jonghyun heard a door slam and then the sound of water rushing.  
  
A rush of breath left Jonghyun, an angry heat rising to his cheeks. Why wouldn’t Minho just  _talk_  to him? How the fuck was Jonghyun supposed to apologize to him if Minho wouldn’t even fucking look at him? Jonghyun knocked his heels against the edge of the couch vindictively, taking a rueful satisfaction out of the dull thudding sound it made. His irritability grew steadily with each minute the dull roar of the shower continued.  
  
Unfortunately for both of them, Jonghyun’s short fuse was ready to blow when the water finally switched off.  
  
By the time Minho opened the door, Jonghyun was standing there, arms crossed and face hot as he fumed. Minho stared back at him dispassionately. His hair was wet, dripping onto his bare shoulders, steam wafting past him as he and Jonghyun stared each other down. Jonghyun wanted to punch Minho in his stupid, inexpressive stone face.  
  
Clearly, the stare down became boring to Minho and he pushed past Jonghyun like Jonghyun wasn’t even there, like the space he occupied was so insignificant that Minho didn’t even need to step around him. Their shoulders knocked painfully and Jonghyun’s hand shot out, wrapped around Minho’s arm in a grip that threatened to bruise.  
  
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jonghyun growled.  
  
“Let go of me, Jonghyun.” His voice was dull, flat, lifeless. Minho wouldn’t even look back him, the bastard.  
  
“We need to fucking talk!”  
  
“Let go of my arm!” Minho roared, wrenching his arm from Jonghyun’s hold.  
  
For all intents and purposes, Minho looked calm as he made his way into his room, if not for the tense set of his shoulders and the ways his hands curled into tight fists. Jonghyun stalked his way after the other boy, hand slamming against the wood of the door as Minho tried to close it. That got Minho’s attention and he finally looked at Jonghyun again, anger sparking in his eyes.  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
“Just fucking talk to me,” Jonghyun demanded. He wasn’t going to take any more of this ignoring bullshit. They were going to talk and Jonghyun was going to apologize and Minho was going to accept it and they’d get on with their fucking lives, whether they liked it or not.  
  
“About what, Jonghyun?” Minho asked, voice raising a little. “There  _is_  nothing to talk about.”  
  
He pushed at the door and Jonghyun’s arm gave a little before he threw his weight into it and the door flew open. Minho stepped back, not giving in, but just ignoring Jonghyun once more. It was like Jonghyun had turned into some sort of mild annoyance. His face burned.  
  
“What the fuck is your problem?” Jonghyun asked, hands balling into fists. “Why is there such a problem with what I said?”  _As if you didn’t regret it yourself_ , his own mind hissed at him. What a hypocrite.  
  
“Really?” An angry flush spread across Minho’s cheeks. “You’re really fucking asking me that?”  
  
His hair was starting to curl around his ears and Jonghyun wanted to throw himself under the bus because Minho still looked fucking attractive and that was the whole problem.  
  
“Yeah? Then just tell me what the problem is because apparently I’m too fucking stupid.” Jonghyun pushed his way into Minho’s space, teeth bared. Minho shoved him back, eyes fierce.  
  
"Can we not have this conversation while I'm in a towel?"  
  
Jonghyun took a step back, stunned as he took in the state Minho was in. Even with his staggering attraction, he’d been so angry that he hadn’t hardly even noticed, hadn’t caught the way that Minho’s towel had slowly been unravelling from its tight knot and was inching its way down his hips, hadn’t seen the way the drops of water from Minho’s hair ran in tiny rivers down his chest. For some strange reason, this stoked the fire in him even higher. Jonghyun couldn’t control himself even while Minho kept his cool in nothing but a towel.  
  
Jonghyun’s distraction allowed Minho to strong-arm the other boy towards the door, his fingers tight around Jonghyun’s biceps. Jonghyun felt so small and weak and ridiculous. A firecracker of guilt started to crack inside him.  
  
“Pro tip,” Minho said angrily, pushing the Jonghyun out into the hallway. “If you want to apologize to someone, it’s best not to be a demanding asshole about it.”  
  
The door slammed in Jonghyun’s face, the thundering boom of a fucked up chance.  
  
-  
  
Minho had started running again. He left early in the mornings, sometimes just as Jonghyun was going to sleep, and he slipped out the door without a word. Jonghyun could hear him, when he was still awake, and he held onto the soft padding of Minho’s feet down the hallway, the muted, heavy sound of the door closing like they were lifelines. Lately, they were the only proof that he had that Minho was even real; with the way he acted, it was like he and Jonghyun didn’t even live on the same plane anymore.  
  
He was gone too, when he was scheduled for work. Jonghyun would hear the way Minho stopped for longer at the door to tie his work shoes. He could imagine what Minho looked like, the same as that day in the dressing room, white button down shirt all done up, black work vest hanging off his broad shoulders. Something in Jonghyun ached that he couldn’t be out there straightening out Minho’s uniform before he left for the day.  
  
But sometimes their paths crossed and it was the most awkward fucking thing, to run into Minho in the hall and sidestep him like they were strangers.  
  
Somehow, everything had spiraled out of Jonghyun’s control and it wasn’t even slipping through his fingers anymore, he had just lost it all entirely. His head flittered back to the slow, easy smiles Minho had slipped him, the feel of his strong hands pounding against Jonghyun’s back. A queasy sort of guilt churned in his stomach as he recalled the press of Minho’s lips against his and how Jonghyun had not only fucked  _that_  up, but he’d fucked up their years of friendship too.  
  
Jonghyun slept worse when Minho wasn’t talking to him. His racing thoughts kept him up night after night, festering in his head until the sun was rising and he hadn’t moved for hours, hadn’t been able to think about anything but how badly he wanted Minho to even just look at him again. His anxiety levels were shooting through the roof and his hands shook, the bags growing under his eyes day by day.  
  
The others had come over the other day and it had been a grade-A disaster. Jonghyun had considered turning them down, faking sick – as much as he had to fake it, anyway – so that he wouldn’t be shoved into the same room as Minho. It was one thing if Minho ignored him in solitude, it was another entirely if Minho ignored him to his face in a room full of other people.  
  
There was a brief, shining moment of hope where they’d been watching a movie and Minho had turned to him from across the room, a wide smile on his lips passing over the heads of everyone else and straight to Jonghyun. Unbidden, a smile rose to Jonghyun’s own lips and for just a second it was like everything was back to normal. And then what was happening hit him and Jonghyun could just see the moment it registered on Minho’s face as the smile dropped off his face.  
  
Jonghyun felt a sweeping splash of cold run through him. It was a smile that had been meant for him and Minho had taken it back, just like that.  
  
Taemin had taken him aside after that, as Jinki and Kibum proposed a late night food run that Minho had agreed to tag along for. Jonghyun had turned them down, exaggerating a yawn that didn’t need much prompting as he said he’d hit the sack early. He had no doubt in his mind: sleep still wouldn’t come easy because he was strung all high and tense. But still, they bought into the lie almost too easily.  
  
All except for one, that is. Taemin waved a hand at them, said he’d  _“crash on the couch for the night or something”_ , and the minute the door had shut he’d rounded on Jonghyun.  
  
“Look,” he said, backing Jonghyun into a corner. “What the hell’s going on with you and Minho?”  
  
And for once in his life, Jonghyun didn’t have an answer for that. He hadn’t been sure where he and Minho stood for a while now and it was only getting murkier as each day passed. Hell, Minho hadn’t even glanced his way as he’d left – Jonghyun had no idea when he’d be back or if he’d even be back at all.  
In lieu of an answer, he gave a halfhearted shrug.  
  
“You guys need to get your shit together,” Taemin warned him. He pushed a finger into Jonghyun’s chest, one hand on his hip. “It’s infuriating watching you two chicken shits pussyfoot around each other.”  
  
“Yeah, well, if you can figure out what his deal is, come talk to me,” Jonghyun grumbled. He knew he was in the wrong but with Minho all but turning into a ghost, apologizing proved to be a near impossible task.  
  
“How are you two so incompetent at simple conversation?” Taemin muttered under his breath, exasperated.  
  
Jonghyun took offense to that. “Hey,” he said, drawing himself up. “I’ve already tried to talk to him. It’s not my fault if he won’t fucking listen.”  
  
“Stop being so damn cocksure all the fucking time!” Jonghyun drew back. Taemin hardly ever actually shouted at him. “You don’t even have a clue why he’s upset do you?”  
  
“Well…” Jonghyun floundered.  
  
He didn’t. He didn’t know and it was driving him up the wall. Why should Minho care if Jonghyun “wasn’t” gay? He didn’t like Jonghyun and he hadn’t even been sober when they’d kissed.  
  
“Get your head out of your ass. You’re not the only one in this Jonghyun!”  
  
And despite the fact that Jonghyun had convinced himself of all these things about Minho, it was Taemin’s words that brought to light the fact that, no, he really didn’t know anything. He’d never asked Minho, he’d just assumed what he wanted to and focused on himself. While Jonghyun had been moping in misery on his own…maybe Minho had been too.  
  
Tears had always come too easily to Jonghyun and big fat drops were rolling down his cheeks before he even realized it.  
  
“A-are…are you… _crying_?” Taemin sounded strained. He tipped his head to get a better look and Jonghyun dropped head to his chest, quiet, shuddering sobs wracking his body.  
  
“You are. Fuck, man, come on.” Taemin grabbed his shoulder and shook it lightly. “Just go talk to him. I mean  _really_  talk to him. He’ll come around once you apologize.”  
  
“I don’t – know – how,” Jonghyun managed through his heaving breaths.  
  
“Just get him to listen to you. Don’t yell at him, you know how much he hates that.”  
  
An overwhelming feeling of helplessness crowded Jonghyun. He couldn’t get Minho to listen to him, much less be in the same room alone with him. No matter what Taemin promised, Jonghyun wasn’t sure if he could do this.  
  
“Hey.” Taemin’s voice was gentle, like he was trying not to scare away a baby bird. Jonghyun looked up and was met with a soft look on Taemin’s face. “He doesn’t want to be mad at you, you know.”  
  
Jonghyun wanted to ask how Taemin could possibly know that but he couldn’t get the words to form on his tongue.  
  
“Talk to him.”  
  
He made it sound so simple.  
  
-  
  
Jonghyun couldn’t remember the last time he’d passed Minho’s room and wasn’t met with the disheartening barricade of a closed door. He’d taken what Taemin said to heart but he couldn’t act on it, just turned it around in his head over and over again as he tried to figure out what to do.  
  
How did you talk to someone you couldn’t even see?  
  
And then the thought struck him that maybe he didn’t actually need to say anything – maybe he could just write it instead. (Writing had always been a little more his strong suit anyway.) He grabbed his phone, ready to put things into action, but he still spent another thirty minutes turning it around in his hands, screen still blank. Maybe he would just start small.  
  
Sent 9:25pm  
 _hey minho_  
  
Sent 9:25pm  
 _can we talk? i have something to tell you_  
  
No answer.  
  
(But then again, Jonghyun hadn’t really been expecting one.)  
  
He could hear the groan of Minho’s mattress springs as Minho shifted around. Well, he was definitely in his room. At least there was that.  
  
Sent 9:32pm  
 _can i come in and talk to you?_  
  
Sent 9:33pm  
 _it’s really important_  
  
Jonghyun felt anxious, flipped his phone back and forth just to give his hands something to do even though his mind couldn’t focus on what was in front of him. He had no idea if Minho was even checking his phone. Maybe he was, maybe he just saw Jonghyun’s name on the screen and he ignored it, maybe he turned it off and set it aside. Jonghyun had no idea if his words were even reaching him.  
  
Sent 9:46pm  
 _do you want to run away with me?_  
  
Sent 9:46pm  
 _(this is a serious suggestion if you want it to be)_  
  
Not a minute later, Jonghyun’s door slammed open.  
  
“What the fuck is this?”  
  
Well, he’d finally gotten Minho’s attention.  
  
Minho stood in the doorway, phone raised accusingly in Jonghyun’s direction. Jonghyun watched the screen dim and then turn black, his eyes flicking up to Minho’s messy hair and tumultuous expression. It looked like he hadn’t been able to decide between irate and perplexed, and though his brows were furrowed and his mouth was a tight line, his eyes were wide and open.  
  
Jonghyun had missed his face. He’d missed all of him.  
  
When he realized that Minho actually expected an answer, Jonghyun just tipped his head to the side, half a shrug, half inviting. They kept eye contact for a long moment as Minho seemed to assess him. Jonghyun felt picked apart, exposed, but he guessed it was probably about time for that. The ball was kind of in Minho’s court now.  
  
To his immense surprise, Minho’s expression smoothed out and he walked towards Jonghyun’s bed with deliberate, measured steps. Jonghyun’s breath seemed to be stuck in his throat as Minho sat down right at the very foot of the bed.  
  
Jonghyun stared at the ceiling so that he wouldn’t have to look at Minho. He could feel a prickling heat spreading itself across his jaw, his cheek, his neck, and he was sure Minho was staring at him. He knew that he had to make the first move but now that Minho was sitting right in front of him again, all the words he ever knew seemed to have grown wings and taken flight right out of his head.  
  
In the end, after an agonizingly long minute, it was Minho who spoke first.  
  
“Jonghyun, what are you doing?” he asked softly, a tired sigh slipping past his lips.  
  
“Trying to get you to talk to me…” Jonghyun muttered helplessly.  
  
But Minho shook his head. “No, I don’t mean right here. I mean, what are you  _doing_?”  
  
Jonghyun looked up and was met with the largest, saddest pair of eyes he’d ever seen. It hit him again, seeing it right in front of him, how much he wasn’t the only one hurting here; Jonghyun had been stuck in his own miserable head and while, distantly, he knew that Minho had been affected too, it was different to see it laid out right in front of him. Minho had a hand loosely fisted in the edge of the sheet, like he was trying to anchor himself. Jonghyun was afraid that he was going to float away instead.  
  
“You’ve been all over the place for weeks and I can’t figure you out.” Minho stared him down like they were in a battle. “Why are you doing this?”  
  
There was an unspoken  _to me, to yourself_  dangling off the end, the thread holding it together frayed and unravelling.  
  
Jonghyun didn’t have an answer for him. It wasn’t even that he didn’t have a  _good_  one; he just didn’t have one at all. Or maybe – he did have one small truth, stashed away in a locked and buried box in the lost corner of his mind. Jonghyun knew what was in it, but he didn’t have the courage, the strength, to tell Minho that. He needed to let Minho in, but that just scared Jonghyun more than anything.  
  
And that was just it. He was scared, plain and simple. He should tell Minho the truth, but how could he when he couldn’t even admit it to himself?  
  
“Jonghyun –“  
  
“I’m sorry.” He glanced at Minho and then away again. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to do that.”  
  
Minho didn’t say anything. He was silent, just staring, long enough that Jonghyun started to regret saying anything at all. Minho’s eyes bore into him and Jonghyun picked at the edge of his sheets, apprehensive.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
That…was not the response Jonghyun had expected. Good or bad, he’d at least expected it to be longer and he was unsure what exactly Minho’s answer meant.  
  
“I didn’t mean to say those things.  
  
“But did you mean them?”  
  
“No!” Jonghyun was shaking like a leaf.  
  
Minho seemed hesitant. He drew in a shuddering breath and then pushed on. “Did you mean what you did?”  
  
And how Minho could meet Jonghyun’s eyes when he was just as scared practically knocked Jonghyun over. Minho was terrified too, but here he was, holding firm and pushing to find out the truth even if it meant he had to stand alone.  
  
“Yeah,” Jonghyun managed, voice coming out as barely more than a whisper of air. “I meant that.”  
  
It was the hardest thing he’d ever admitted, to himself, out loud, to another person. It felt like a confession and it set his nerves ablaze once more, bubbles of uncertainty popping and fizzing throughout his veins.  
  
Then, with a buzz and a crack, Jonghyun’s single light called it quits. The room was plunged into darkness and, with it, Jonghyun’s heart.  
  
He was so much more aware of Minho when he couldn’t see him. The bed creaked and Jonghyun held his breath, waiting for the mattress to spring back up as Minho’s weight left it, waiting for light to flood the room for one brief moment, waiting to be left alone in the darkness.  
  
But instead, the mattress dipped as Minho shifted and crawled up the bed. Minho’s hand landed on Jonghyun’s calf and he murmured a quiet  _sorry_ , adjusted his position as Jonghyun curled in on himself. Jonghyun ducked his head into the pillow as Minho settled down next to him, and he breathed carefully, counting the time in between each inhale, trying to slow his racing heart.  
  
His pulse jumpstarted when Minho’s hand fumbled in the dark and laid over his deliberately.  
  
There seemed to be a ringing in the room as Minho’s thumb rubbed lightly across the back of Jonghyun’s hand. He didn’t know what this meant; did Minho forgive him? What was he trying to tell Jonghyun? His eyes adjusted just enough to make out Minho’s silhouette right in front of him and he tried not to reel back, kept steady and still.  
  
“I don’t want to lose you, Minho. I can’t do that.”  
  
“I can’t do that either, Jonghyun,” Minho sighed. “But I can’t do this if you’re going to keep changing your mind.”  
  
Jonghyun could feel it, that subtle shift in the air as the conversation took on a slightly different meaning. It was electric and Jonghyun’s skin buzzed. He wondered if it was the same for Minho.  
  
Carefully, like a question, he settled his hand in the junction of Minho’s neck.  
  
Minho’s shoulder was a mountain in front of him and Jonghyun’s eyes traced the way the line dipped into his waist, swept up and out and all the way down to his legs. In fact, Minho’s entire existence was like a mountain to him, one that he had recently struggled to climb. How had he let things get this bad?  
  
“I really was serious,” Jonghyun whispered into Minho’s shirt. “about what I said earlier. If you ever wanted to, I’d go with you.”  
  
Minho’s arms tightened around Jonghyun and he laid his chin on top of the other boy’s head.  
  
“I’ll think about it,” he said easily. Minho was teasing him, Jonghyun realized with a start. He could hear the smile in Minho’s voice and he snuggled in against him, seeking for things to be back to the way they were before.  
  
-  
  
Growing, dramatic music filled the room along with the sound of popcorn being crunched. Minho, having accepted Jonghyun’s apology, had suggested that they have a regular day in and just hang out. They picked a movie, made some popcorn, and had been settled on the couch for the last forty minutes. For the most part, they didn’t speak but it was a companionable silence instead of the stilted, forced one from before.  
  
The bowl of popcorn had migrated from between them to Minho’s lap because he had a black hole in the middle of his body instead of a stomach, and Jonghyun had gotten distracted by the movie. He’d lost track of how long he’d been absentmindedly playing with Minho’s free hand for, bending his fingers and running his fingertips over Minho’s nails. The skin on Minho’s hands was rough, a little dry, but his wrist was smooth as silk. Jonghyun ran his thumb back and forth over the thin skin, only distantly aware of the action, eyes trained on the television.  
  
His attention was called away briefly when his thumb snagged on Minho’s bracelet, catching under the chain. Eyes back on the television once more, Jonghyun switched his focus to the small metal loops. He raised Minho’s hand from his leg and brought it closer to him, rested Minho’s arm in both hands as Jonghyun braced his elbows against the back cushions. Jonghyun turned Minho’s bracelet around and around on his wrist, the pad of his thumb bouncing over the loops as he twirled it.  
  
He vaguely registered that the crunching sounds had stopped, but the movie in front of him was more important, stealing away almost all of his attention.  
  
The room was hot, the fan not doing a whole hell of a lot, and the thought came unbidden to Jonghyun’s mind that maybe Minho’s bracelet would be cool. Though he’d been touching it already, Jonghyun guided Minho’s arm up just a little higher to check, distracted mind deciding that, since his hands were occupied, he’d have to check another way.  
  
The metal was cool as it touched his lips and he opened his mouth slightly, let the links slip in to rest between.  
  
He ran the bracelet over his mouth, the cold of it feeling pleasant as he shifted Minho’s arm closer. But then he could feel Minho’s arm tense, feel Minho’s fingers curl into a fist underneath his hands. Jonghyun froze. The bracelet fell from his lips as he turned his head and met Minho’s wide eyes.  
  
“Jonghyun.” Minho’s voice was low and throaty and a flash of heat went through Jonghyun as he dropped Minho’s hand.  
  
Minho’s hand fell on his leg, fingers so close to the inside of Jonghyun’s thigh. He braced his hand, right there on Jonghyun’s thigh, and leaned forward.  
  
And Jonghyun freaked out. He was frozen just long enough for Minho’s face to come within centimeters of his own, and then his hands were on the firm chest in front of his. He pushed, hard. Minho was thrust back against the couch, shock leaking into his expression. Jonghyun stared back at him, eyes wide with fright. His heart was pounding so fast in his chest that he was sure it was going to burst out of his chest and lay there, beating, on the floor in front of them.  
  
Jonghyun really didn’t want to fight with Minho again but it was like he was watching himself from the outside as he just kept messing up every chance he was handed. He was so scared, the fear in him so deeply ingrained that even though his heart was telling him one thing, even though his body readily agreed, some tiny little nagging part of his mind snuck in and hissed in his ear.  
  
“Minho. I –“  
  
“No, Jonghyun. Not again. We’re not doing this again,” Minho growled. He pushed himself off the couch, face shuttered in anger. Jonghyun watched, helpless, as Minho stalked down the hall and slammed his door shut. Jonghyun sunk to the ground and dropped his head into his hands, feeling sick. He’d fucked up again.  
  
-  
  
There weren’t words to describe the tension in the air over the next few days. It came to a head the day that Jinki, Kibum, and Taemin invited themselves over to laze around before the summer started coming to a close. If Jonghyun had had a way to turn them down without sounding like a complete asshole, he would have done it in a heartbeat. As it turned out, he’d been unable to do anything but weakly agree, no feasible excuses in his arsenal.  
  
It didn’t matter anyway – they’d made their discord obvious enough to the others by sitting as far away from each other as possible. It threw their normal seating arrangement into disarray and the others had shuffled themselves around, shooting silent glances of confusion at each other.  
  
Jonghyun sit back and let everyone else take control of the day; he wasn’t in the mood to be chipper and play into their jokes, couldn’t bring himself to partake in their teasing. He could tell that it wasn’t helping the situation – probably was just making things worse – but he was just so fucking tired of it all. He wished he wasn’t, wished he could join in and be happy but Minho’s stoicism and stony looks fed the heavy weight in Jonghyun’s stomach.  
  
Jinki and Taemin decided on video games and, on the outside, the atmosphere in the room seemed to relax into something casual and friendly. But Jonghyun could feel the crackling tension rolling off of everyone in the room. He tried to stay as long as he could, made ribbing comments on the others’ gameplay, but when he finally just couldn’t take it anymore he got up and left, mumbling a vague comment about the bathroom to anyone that was listening.  
  
Jonghyun went to his room instead and melted against his bed. It was really too damn hot to be in such a closed off area but he needed to be alone. Every once in a while it just became a little too…stifling…to be around the others. Jonghyun needed to get his head on straight and he couldn’t do it with all of the guilt clouding his head in the other room.  
  
A pair of slow, steady footsteps made their way down the hall and stopped in front of his door. Jonghyun shot up like his spine had been electrified. The door was pushed inward and Minho’s face appeared around the edge. When the rest of his body came into view and he was standing in the middle of Jonghyun’s room, Jonghyun’s fight or flight instinct kicked in and his head flew into a panic.  
  
He bolted. Jonghyun was almost out the door when Minho caught his wrist and the force of the stop caused him to careen backwards. The thought  _oh shit_  was the only thing to pass through his mind before he hit Minho’s chest hard. They stumbled and then Minho’s arms were coming up to steady Jonghyun, keeping them both on their feet. It felt like a cage.  
  
Jonghyun started struggling and Minho’s arms tightened. He had to get away.  
  
“Jonghyun. Jonghyun!”  
  
The words fell on deaf ears as Jonghyun continued to squirm violently in Minho’s arms.  
  
“Minho, let me go.” Even Jonghyun could hear the irrational panic in his voice but he didn’t care; the only thing that mattered to him was getting away.  
  
“Why do you keep doing this shit?”  
  
“Because I’m fucking scared!”  
  
“Then just fucking talk to me!”  
  
“I  _can’t_!”  
  
“Why  _not_ , Jonghyun?” Minho cried. His voice was hoarse and Jonghyun could hear the hurt laced through every word. “How am I supposed to help you if you won’t tell me anything?”  
  
And it was fucking awkward because the others were just out in the other room and Jonghyun was sure that they could hear him, but their voices just kept raising higher and higher and they couldn’t stop it.  
  
Jonghyun felt like he was completely losing it.  
  
His head felt light, dizziness crashing into him as the room swam before his eyes. His arms were weak as he pushed against Minho’s hold and there was a rushing in his ears. It might have been the sound of his blood rushing to his head. He might have been about to pass out. Jonghyun didn’t know anything but that he needed to get away.  
  
“Fucking talk to me!”  
  
“Make me!”  
  
Summoning up everything he had, Jonghyun shoved Minho away with a strength he couldn’t understand. Minho tripped backwards and hit the wall with a heavy thud that seemed to rattle the walls. He met Jonghyun’s fearful eyes for just a moment before Jonghyun turned to run out of the room once more.  
  
He hadn’t expected Minho to tackle him to the ground.  
  
“Get off of me!” Jonghyun screamed, rolling to try and dislodge Minho.  
  
Minho was knocked to the side and Jonghyun scrambled to get up, tried to kick away from Minho so that he could get away. But Minho grabbed his ankle and pulled, and Jonghyun’s chin struck the floor, scraped against the carpet as he was dragged back. That was what snapped something in him – Minho wouldn’t let him leave, not unless Jonghyun made him.  
  
He spun around, knocked Minho back against the floor and aimed for his chest. Jonghyun’s fist struck true and Minho wheezed, the wind knocked out of him as Jonghyun threw another punch. Minho’s hips bucked up, disrupting the path of his punch and knocking Jonghyun off. Jonghyun didn’t have time to roll away before Minho was on him.  
  
And for the first time, Jonghyun was met with the fire in Minho’s eyes that he always saw when he was fighting. It reminded him of why he’d always thought Minho was beautiful when he fought. He had never been on the receiving end of this look before and Jonghyun felt a brief zing of excitement zip through him all the way to his toes before Minho’s fist buried itself in Jonghyun’s solar plexus.  
  
Jonghyun coughed and brought up his arms, blocked Minho’s next punch and grit his teeth at the force behind it. He’d known it, but it was different this way, feeling just how angry Minho was. Jonghyun channeled his own frustration into his fists, fighting back seriously with everything he had. He could tell that Minho was doing the same and they both traded off the advantage, gaining and losing the upper hand several times.  
  
Jonghyun had just managed to grab and secure Minho’s wrists when the other boy was pulled off of him. Hands grabbed at his own shirt and the two were dragged away from each other, practically kicking and screaming. Jonghyun had never been this angry at Minho before. They’d had their spats before – it was only natural, knowing each other as long as they had – but Jonghyun couldn’t recall ever feeling this kind of rage build up in him, directed only toward Minho.  
  
“Just fucking talk to me!” Minho screamed at him, fighting against Jinki’s hold.  
  
A dark flush spread across Jonghyun’s face, burning all the way up to his ears. Oh no – they were  _not_  having this conversation in front of the others. Jonghyun almost broke free from Taemin’s and Kibum’s arms with his thrashing.  
  
“Just fuck off!” He shouted back, the words ripped out of him like a tornado.  
  
“You can’t keep doing this Jonghyun.” The words were growled at him, rumbled deep in Minho’s throat and it just pissed Jonghyun off even more.  
  
“What the fuck do you care?” Jonghyun hissed, struggling against the hold on him.  
  
“Damn it, don't you get it, you idiot?” Minho surged toward him, face livid as Jinki lost his grip. And then he was right in front of Jonghyun, the fight surging through Minho’s body as he towered over him, looking more stunning than Jonghyun had ever seen. “I love you, you fucking asshole!”  
  
He was breathing heavily as Jonghyun froze, stunned. Taemin and Kibum moved him then, wrestled Jonghyun onto his bed and held him there until Jinki had taken Minho from the room. And then all of it drained out of him, the anger, the energy, the fear, and all that was left was exhaustion.  
  
Jonghyun sagged into the mattress and after a tense moment, Kibum and Taemin released their hold tentatively. They didn’t need to worry – the front door slammed, signaling Minho’s departure.


	7. Chapter 7

Jonghyun had fucked up.  
  
He’d fucked up bigger and harder than he ever had before and he didn’t know if there was any coming back from it. After their fight, Kibum and Taemin had left Jonghyun there on his bed. Their faces had been slightly regretful but Jonghyun had seen past that into the judgement lying behind their eyes. He didn’t blame them; he knew that he’d been in the wrong the whole time.  
  
He hadn’t heard a word from Minho since. Minho hadn’t come back and Jonghyun didn’t know where he was, didn’t even know if he had his phone with him because he’d hardly left his room – hardly even left his bed – since everyone had cleared out.  
  
And so he did the only thing he had the energy to do: he cried. A lot.  
  
Jonghyun buried his face in his pillow and cried, he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling and cried, he hung over the side of the bed and cried. He cried because he was frustrated and scared and angry at himself. Jonghyun cried because, at this point, he didn’t know what else to do – he couldn’t talk to Minho and he didn’t want to see anyone else.  
  
Jonghyun looked up, red nosed and snotty when his door pushed open. The hope fell off his face when he saw that it was only Kibum.  
  
“Well don’t look so happy to see me,” Kibum muttered as he sat down next to Jonghyun.  
  
He looked at Jonghyun’s blotchy face and watery eyes and grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the nightstand next to Jonghyun’s bed. With a grossed out look on his face, he shoved the tissues at Jonghyun, murmuring only, “clean yourself up.”  
  
Jonghyun scrubbed at his face carelessly, thin tracks of tears still streaking down his cheeks intermittently.  
  
“Alright,” Kibum started after Jonghyun had tossed a tiny mountain of tissues into the trash. “Out with it, then.”  
  
“Minho hasn’t come back,” Jonghyun moaned miserably, falling into Kibum’s lap. “I haven’t seen him for days, I haven’t heard from him.”  
  
A fresh bout of tears spilled out onto his cheeks.  
  
“I don’t even know where he is!” He wailed.  
  
“Calm down, he’s at my house.” Kibum knocked his knuckles against the back of Jonghyun’s head. “Besides, you know that’s not what I meant.”  
  
His voice softened a notch. “What’s going on with you two, Jonghyun?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Jonghyun admitted, pushing his cheek against Kibum’s leg. “I’ve screwed a lot of stuff up.”  
  
“That’s putting it lightly,” Kibum said, not unkindly. “Tell me about it?”  
  
Jonghyun pushed away and flopped onto his stomach, face buried in his pillow as he replayed the events of the last few weeks in his head. Minho’s smile, his laugh, his soft touch on Jonghyun’s arm – and so many angry eyes, the constant scowling set of his mouth, his clenched fists. Jonghyun had taken his smile from him, and that was maybe even more terrible than Minho being mad at him.  
  
“I’m scared,” he mumbled into his pillow.  
  
Kibum lied down next to him, propped his chin on his folded arms as he stared at the wall in front of them.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“’Cause I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jonghyun said, lifting his chin to rest on the pillow.  
  
“I think that much is obvious.” When Jonghyun scowled at him, Kibum laughed and continued, “for what it’s worth, I’m not sure he really knows either.”  
  
“Isn’t that like, a huge problem?” Jonghyun asked, genuinely serious. He dropped his head onto the pillow and stared at Kibum.  
  
“We’re basically just running around with our heads cut off, fucking things up.” He stopped and, if Jonghyun had had dog ears on top of his head, they would have drooped sadly. “Or – I am. Mostly me.”  
  
There was a long pause of silence. Jonghyun traced loopy patterns onto his pillow.  
  
“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Kibum finally said, conspiratorially. Jonghyun tipped his head closer and Kibum whispered, “none of us really know what we’re doing.”  
  
And then Kibum sat up and started his monologue. Jonghyun got up and made himself comfortable, knowing that he’d be in this for the long haul.  
  
“The problem is that neither of you are talking to each other,” Kibum started, waving his arm in Jonghyun’s direction. “You’re never going to understand each other if you don’t open up the lines of communication and get to talking. If you don’t, you’re just going to keep misunderstanding each other.”  
  
Kibum looked him up and down critically. Jonghyun sniffed pathetically and Kibum’s eyebrow rose.  
  
“And look where that’s got you.”  
  
“Yeah, but –“  
  
“The first thing you’ve gotta do is figure out what you want,” Kibum said, cutting him off. “Otherwise you can’t talk about it.”  
  
Jonghyun stared at him, a large knot tangling up his stomach. He felt sick.  
  
“So what is it you want, Jonghyun?” Kibum asked him.  
  
And then Jonghyun collapsed into him; a sudden urge for physical contact had knocked into Jonghyun and he felt the need to anchor himself in Kibum’s arms. To his credit, Kibum didn’t seem surprised in the slightest and he received Jonghyun without missing a beat.  
  
Jonghyun sat there, half in Kibum’s lap, half falling off the bed, chin hooked over one Kibum’s shoulders as he traced the tattoo peeking out from his shirt on the other side. He thought about what he wanted. He knew the answer was there, had been nestled there in his brain for quite some time, but he still didn’t know if he was ready to confront it. It didn’t matter though, Minho was past ready and Jonghyun needed to get his shit together if he didn’t want to miss the last chance he had. And maybe he’d already missed it – but it was past time and Jonghyun needed to finally admit it out loud, at least to someone.  
  
“I think I like him, Kibum,” Jonghyun confessed into the crook of Kibum’s neck. His voice was a shaky whisper as his arms tightened around the other boy. “I think I like him a lot.”  
  
Kibum’s hand came up in response, stroking Jonghyun’s hair calmly. They’d probably all known for a long time, longer than Jonghyun had been able to admit it to himself, even with pretenses of “only as friend” and “not like that” thrown up.  
  
Jonghyun let it all out, cried out his frustrations and stupidity there on Kibum’s shoulder. Kibum let him, just kept running his fingers through Jonghyun’s hair and murmuring comforting words of reassurance.  
  
“You have to do something about this, Jonghyun,” Kibum said, fixing him with a look once Jonghyun’s tears had stopped. “You need to fix this.”  
  
“Yeah, I know.” Jonghyun wiped his nose, head dropping to his chest.  
  
He needed to figure out what to do.  
  
Two hours later, Jonghyun was well and truly, spectacularly drunk.  
  
If he really thought about it, it probably (definitely) wasn’t his best idea, but he needed something to take the edge off. And besides, he’d always been more honest with himself when he was drunk.  
  
If anybody had walked into the living room, they would have been met with the most pathetic sight they’d ever seen in their lives. Jonghyun was lounging on the couch, wine bottles spread across the coffee table because if he was going to be sad-drinking, then he was drinking cheap wine, no doubt about it.  
  
He hadn’t started slow – there was no reason to; he knew exactly what he wanted to do (get shitfaced) and so that was what he did. And now here he was, dried tear tracks on his cheeks and a half empty bottle in his hand.  
  
Jonghyun shifted on the couch, wiggling against the cushions to get more comfortable, and his phone slipped out of his pocket. It bounced off the cushions and landed on the floor – screen side down, of course – with a cheerful little  _thunk_. He stared at it dazedly until a brilliant idea formed in his head: he was going to text Minho.  
  
Setting the bottle unsteadily on the table and almost knocking it clean over in the process, Jonghyun reached for his phone. He picked it up and settled back nicely against the couch, tapping in his passcode as ideas jumped over each other in his head to be the first one to reach his fingers.  
  
Sent 6:18pm  
_hey mi no_  
  
Sent 6:18pm  
_minoooooooooooo_  
  
Sent 6:18pm  
_mino   im sry im a dcik pls dnt b e madd_  
  
His fingers fumbled, not able to type properly because of the way the screen buzzed in and out of focus in front of him, like heat lines rising from the pavement. Autocorrect couldn’t even help him, his phone apparently just having given up on him completely. Jonghyun forged on, hardly even noticing the errors.  
  
Sent 6:20pm  
_i ddnt mean it_  
  
Sent 6:20pm  
_i dont want u to lea ve  me alon_  
  
Sent 6:21pm  
_i wnt you bakc here_  
  
Jonghyun didn’t stop to think that maybe it would piss Minho off more to receive a barrage of texts. His phone must have been vibrating off the hook, wherever it was – wherever  _he_  was. Jonghyun just needed Minho to hear what he had to say. He just needed Minho to come back.  
  
Sent 6:23pm  
_m srry i yelleld st you i wass bein dumb_  
  
Sent 6:24pm  
_mino pls com ebac k okay_  
  
Sent 6:24pm  
_im sorry i cnat type bc im drnk_  
  
Sent 6:25pm  
_but I stilll wnat u to come hom e_  
  
His thoughts spewed through his fingers as quickly as he could type them (which, in his current state, wasn’t very fast or accurate). He didn’t even pause to think about what he was saying, the thoughts just passed in a direct link from his brain to his hands to his phone and, hopefully, to Minho.  
  
Sent 6:26pm  
_i mis s you_  
  
Sent 6:26pm  
_ill tell u a secret_  
  
Sent 6:27pm  
_im drubk and i ove you but i love you when i'm sboer to o_  
  
Jonghyun’s phone slipped from his hands and landed on the floor once more. His head tipped forward onto his chest and just seconds later a tiny, quiet snore broke its way past his lips.  
  
-  
  
Jonghyun woke with a start, heart pounding as hard as his head as he stared around the pitch black room. Labored, heavy breathing filled the silence as his chest heaved and he tried to calm down. What had woken him up became clear when the light flickered back on and Jonghyun saw Minho standing in the hallway.  
  
“I turned it off because I thought you were asleep,” Minho mumbled. Jonghyun could hardly make out the words from the couch. “Sorry.”  
  
“It’s…no problem,” he replied hesitantly. Did this mean they were okay?  
  
Minho nodded at him stiffly and turned to walk back down the hallway to his room, shoulders set in a hard line. Apparently not.  
  
Jonghyun glanced at the clock on the VCR; it was just past eleven in the evening. He vaulted off the couch, reeling for a moment as his stomach did somersaults with the action. So it was the middle of the night, he had a hangover, and he needed to somehow convince one of the most important people in his life not to hate him. Okay, he could totally do this. Perfect.  
  
He tripped over his own feet to get to Minho, his head ringing with the sound of his own footsteps.  
  
“Wait!” he cried as Minho’s hand landed on the doorknob.  
  
He came to a halt in front of the other boy, doubled over as he tried not to heave on Minho’s feet.  
  
“Please wait,” Jonghyun panted.  
  
Minho’s hand slipped off the knob and he crossed his arms, looking down at Jonghyun. Well, at least Minho was looking at him again. That was progress.  
  
“Minho, I’m so sorry.” Jonghyun finally straightened up. A rush of dizziness threatened to knock him over and he might have swayed on his feet, but he kept Minho’s gaze. “I didn’t mean to say any of those things, I really didn’t, I –“  
  
Minho held up a hand.  
  
“Jonghyun, it’s late,” he sighed as he massaged his temples. “You’re probably still drunk and I’m tired. I don’t want to have this conversation right now.”  
  
Jonghyun deflated, sinking in on himself like an old balloon. He gave Minho a weak smile.  
  
“Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry. You go to sleep.”  
  
He had turned to slink back into his own room, defeated, when a hand wrapped around his wrist.  
  
“Tomorrow,” Minho said firmly. And then he walked into his room.  
  
The door closed behind Minho, solid, final, daunting. He still sounded angry but Jonghyun noted the distinct lack of the lock clicking into place. Maybe they were okay after all.  
  
-  
  
His room was boiling hot when Jonghyun groggily blinked his eyes open. With a few more hours of rest his nausea had weaned away partly but his headache was still knocking around in his head. He didn’t really feel like shit, though, until he recalled the events of the day before. He’d really done it. He’d gotten wasted because of his big, dumb, gay feelings about another boy. Oh man, he was pathetic.  
  
Jonghyun scrubbed a hand down his face, feeling absolutely disgusting. It was too hot, he reeked of booze, his mouth was a fucking trash can, and he needed a damn shower.  
  
He rinsed off quickly, reveling in the cool water before he pulled on as little clothing as possible and made his way out to the living room. Jonghyun had expected a mess, had expected to see his five hundred bottles of disgusting cheap wine strewn across the coffee table. Instead, he was met with a small plate of food (it had bacon on it – there was a saint somewhere out there looking out for him), two pills, and a glass of water.  
  
Jonghyun looked for a note, for any sign of who this was from. He knew who it should have been, knew who – statistically – it must have been. But still he looked for something. He came up short and, with a sigh, he gratefully dug into his food. The morning light refracted through the glass of water and Jonghyun contemplated the prisms cast across the table as he chewed on a piece of toast.  
  
He didn’t know where Minho was, as had become the norm lately, but he thought that maybe, just maybe, starting today they would be able to work things out between them. The lock last night was a good sign, as was the food sitting before him. Jonghyun disrupted the little light rainbows as he picked up the glass and quickly swallowed down the pills.  
  
The room wasn’t really quiet. There was the broken crackling of a dying light bulb in the corner, the heated whirring of the refrigerator in the kitchen, the sound of people outside drifting in from the open window. Jonghyun heard children laughing, people talking, a dog barking, someone’s radio blasting from their car. But even with all of this noise surrounding him, it felt too quiet because he was there alone.  
  
Jonghyun sunk back into the couch, slouching so low that his chin bumped his chest, knees jutting out far over the edge of the cushions. He was bored. He was bored and anxious and was simultaneously impatient and dreading when Minho would be back.  
  
Looking for something to distract himself, Jonghyun scanned the room. The light reflected off of the back of his phone and Jonghyun picked it up. He unlocked it, about to browse through videos to make the waiting easier, and was instantaneously and unceremoniously completely mortified.  
  
He had texted Minho. He had gotten so drunk that he could hardly see straight and he had texted Minho. The words on the screen finally registered in Jonghyun’s head and his phone fell to his lap.  
  
_im drubk and i ove you but i love you when i'm sboer to o_  
  
Holy.  
  
Shit.  
  
Jonghyun was so fucking screwed.  
  
And, because fate was a fickle thing and of course since Jonghyun believed in serendipity it had to come back and bite him in the ass, Minho walked in through the front door. Jonghyun stared at him in barely concealed horror, his screen dimming to black in perfect time with Minho’s eyes locking onto him.  
  
Jonghyun stuttered, a jumble of excuses and apologies and maybe a few confessions trying to come out of his mouth at one time. Minho’s expression changed rapidly from neutral to confused to slightly concerned in a matter of a few seconds. Jonghyun ran out of breath and suck in a huge gulp of air, filling the room with the sound of a throaty wheeze as the two of them stared at each other.  
  
“Are you…okay?” Minho asked after Jonghyun had finished trying to hyperventilate.  
  
“Just – perfect,” Jonghyun panted. His throat felt raw and his headache had come back with a vengeance.  
  
But – thank god – before they had any more time to be awkward and stilted around each other, the door opened just behind Minho.  
  
“Yo!” Jinki said with a wide grin. He waved at them as Taemin and Kibum pushed their way into room.  
  
“’Sup, nerds.” Taemin flopped on the couch next to Jonghyun, slouched and sloppy, hair all in his face. Jonghyun envied his ability to be casual in such a situation.  
  
“You guys coming?” Kibum asked.  
  
“Where?” Minho looked back and forth between Jinki and Kibum, waiting for an answer.  
  
“There’s a free ice cream thing going on downtown,” Jinki explained. “We’re gonna go line up. It opens in half an hour.”  
  
Jonghyun perked up at that and he could see that Minho did too. They were all, truthfully, gluttons of the highest order and “free food” was their favorite combination of words.  
  
“Alright!” Minho pumped his fist in the air. “Let’s get going!”  
  
While everyone bustled out the door, Jonghyun hung back for a moment. He just needed a few moments to clear his head, get himself ready for the day ahead of him where apparently, he and Minho were going to put off talking things out and pretend that everything was all sorted. Mentally shaking himself, Jonghyun clenched and unclenched his hands nervously.  
  
And then, as if everything was all good and normal, Minho popped his head back in.  
  
“What are you waiting for, hyung?”  
  
With a prompting raise of his eyebrow, Minho disappeared again, leaving a stunned Jonghyun in his wake. A big, dopey smile pulled across his face. Minho had called him “hyung” again.  
  
He raced out the door with the others and they ran, Minho at his side.  
  
-  
  
They’d gotten their ice cream and enjoyed it greatly – how could they not? It was  _ice cream_  – and Jonghyun had only just finished licking the sticky residue from his fingers when a group of guys confronted them. Jonghyun let loose a feral grin; he had a lot of pent up energy after the month he’d been having and he was ready to let it all out. Oh, these guys were in for one hell of a rude awakening.  
  
The second the first punch went flying, Jonghyun felt a current of excitement thrill though him like it hadn’t in a long time.  
  
He could feel the same energy coursing through the rest of his gang, the others playing it up and going all out. They were having fun. He could feel it in his fists, he could  _see_  it in them, saw the wild grins lurking just behind their lips. God, it felt good to have them all fighting by his side again.  
  
Jonghyun let himself get lost in the motions, rode each movement like he’d been born for it. He got so caught up that he didn’t even notice what was going on around him until he heard it: a pained grunt that was too familiar to be comfortable. He turned around just in time to catch the way one guy shoved into Minho.  
His body hit the wall, head cracking back against the brick sharply, and Jonghyun saw red. Moments later, that red was manifesting around him, coloring his knuckles and spraying against his shirt as he busted the no-name guy’s mouth. The guy gurgled weakly, spit out a tooth at Jonghyun’s feet, but Jonghyun had already locked onto the boy standing above Minho.  
  
The boy had Minho’s shirt clenched in his fist and was knocking him back carelessly against the wall. Minho’s head lolled on his shoulders, one of his eyes almost swollen from a large cut on his cheekbone, and his back scraped against the coarse brick every time the boy jostled him. When the boy released him, Minho slid roughly down the wall, letting out a soft grunt when he hit the ground.  
  
The boy’s foot made contact with Minho’s stomach and Jonghyun let out a roar.  
  
He charged forward, tackling the guy to the ground. His head hit the pavement the same way that Minho’s had hit the wall and Jonghyun shoved the boy’s shoulders back into the ground, kept him there as he hit again and again. When the boy stopped fighting back, body going limp as he turned his head to the side and wheezed out a straggling cough, Jonghyun got up. A glob of spit landed just next to the guy’s head.  
  
Minho was still against the wall when Jonghyun reached him. No one had touched him since he’d gone down and Jonghyun figured that was a good thing – he would have broken any hand laid on Minho.  
  
Minho was a little dazed as Jonghyun knelt down in front of him, his eyes weary and a bit unfocused as Jonghyun assessed the damage. He was met with a faint grin amongst the scrapes, bruises and blood and dirt discoloring Minho’s face. Jonghyun smiled back at him and felt the eyes of both gangs on him and Minho as the fight wound down.  
  
He grabbed Minho’s face lightly in his hands and leaned their foreheads together, his eyes closing of their own accord. He could feel that spirit still in Minho, not dampened in the least despite his current state. If anything, it felt hotter, brighter, than it had before. Minho’s hands came up and gripped Jonghyun’s arms roughly, his warm breath puffing against Jonghyun’s face evenly.  
  
Jonghyun pulled back and studied Minho. He stroked a thumb gently, gingerly, over the cut on Minho’s cheekbone. The blood smeared against Minho’s skin and Jonghyun came away with a stain of red on his own. He didn’t know what came over him. He didn’t know what compelled him to do it, but in the next second he was moving forward, Minho’s face in his hands.  
  
Minho’s eyes were wide, his fingers tight on Jonghyun’s arm as Jonghyun’s lips pressed tenderly into the cut on the corner of his mouth.  
  
Jonghyun could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he did it again.  
  
-  
  
Steam was cascading over the shower door like a waterfall when Jonghyun walked into the bathroom. He could see the muddled silhouette behind the foggy, dappled glass, dark and obscure. Minho was standing in the shower, washing the blood and dirt out of his hair, when Jonghyun stepped in.  
  
Jonghyun’s eyes followed the way the blood, diluted and thin and pink, ran down Minho’s back before he touched his fingertips lightly to Minho’s skin, just before his shoulder blades. The skin there was scratched raw and red; long, angry abrasions streaked up and down and out, until the once blank canvas before Jonghyun was filled. The water weighed Jonghyun down, made his movements slow and heavy as the sopping fabric hung off of him.  
  
Minho turned around just before Jonghyun tipped his head forward, thudding dully against Minho’s chest. Slick arms came up around him, pulled him close. The water was beating against Minho’s back, tiny drops ricocheting and slipping off his skin. The warm mist sprayed thinly against Jonghyun’s face and he closed his eyes, cheek sliding against Minho’s clavicle.  
  
Minho’s rested his cheek on Jonghyun’s damp, dirty hair and squeezed him tight. Jonghyun’s arms hung weakly at his sides but his mouth worked transparently against Minho’s collar bone, mouthing words of regret against the damaged skin.  
  
They didn’t speak, the thundering sound of rushing water and the gentle contact of skin filling in for words.  
  
Minho’s hands tugged at the shirt stuck to Jonghyun’s back, pulled the heavy fabric away from his skin and broke the seal. Everything was so heavy; the water weighing down his clothes, Minho’s arms around his waist, the guilt dripping down from his head and sitting, gelatinous and thick, in his stomach. Minho was heavy too, anchoring Jonghyun down in that spot, rooting him to the wet tiled floor.  
  
They stood there, unmoving and quiet, until the steam started to clear and the water ran lukewarm. Minho stepped out first, wrapped himself in a towel as Jonghyun continued to stand in the draining shower. He watched a bead of condensation slink down the shower door, watched it collect and grow and break off, tiny little specks of water trailing behind. A towel settled around his shoulders and Jonghyun looked up.  
  
Minho ran the towel down arms, rubbed it against Jonghyun’s hair slowly and diligently. Jonghyun could feel Minho’s big hands through the thick towel, pressing against his scalp and the back of his neck, the cradle of his jaw. Minho was concentrated, eyes focused and unstraying, but Jonghyun’s eyes roamed, bored into Minho’s skin, took in the dips and craters and rough edges of Minho’s body.  
  
He traveled down the bridge of Minho’s nose, through the forest of his lashes, across the canyon of his shoulders, and made a home for himself in the bed of Minho’s lips and the cavern of his eyes.  
  
Minho’s hands stopped, slipped down to Jonghyun’s shoulders and squeezed, gently directing him out of the bathroom. Jonghyun stood in the middle of Minho’s room, dripping and vulnerable. But he wasn’t scared, not anymore. Minho closed the door behind him and stepped in front of Jonghyun.  
  
He helped Jonghyun peel off his waterlogged shirt, carried it up Jonghyun’s torso and over his head, eyes locked on Jonghyun’s, burning, as it continued up, up, over his arms. The shirt dropped to the floor with a wet, squelching thud and Minho turned away. The fire stayed right in the middle of Jonghyun’s chest, crackling away with a turbulent intensity.  
  
They got dressed and left without needing words. They both knew where they were going. Night had fallen sometime during the slow stretch of time in the bathroom and a thin chill bit at them now, nipped at their warmed and sensitive skin. Jonghyun pulled his jacket tighter.  
  
They walked and walked until the roar of cars grew louder and the streetlights became sparse. The tent came into view, the tarps a little more worn from the hot summer sun, but no more worse for wear than normal. Little scampering sounds rose from the dying grass, tiny animals skittering from their feet as they carefully treaded towards their tent.  
  
Minho ducked inside and Jonghyun pulled a little flap over the entrance of the tent, keeping out the cold and the wandering eyes. Minho had clicked on a little battery operated tungsten lamp and the inside of the tent was bathed in warm, yellow light. The people driving past could probably see their shadows, Jonghyun figured as he laid down in the blankets.  
  
Minho settled down next to him and Jonghyun’s hand reached out, almost of its own accord. His fingers swept over the side of Minho’s face, tracing the cuts he’d gotten.  
  
“I’m sorry I let this happen,” Jonghyun said quietly, the pad of his thumb running over the thin, faintly bruised skin underneath Minho’s eye.  
  
Minho’s hand came up and covered his. “Wasn’t your fault.”  
  
“Look, Minho,” he said, turning to the other boy. “I’m not letting anyone else lay even a finger on you again.”  
  
“Yeah?” A mischievous look crossed Minho’s face, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. “Does that mean you’re gonna be the only one touching me then?”  
  
Jonghyun smirked back at him, eyes dark. “Yeah. It does.”  
  
And then he surged forward.      
  
Jonghyun kissed him hard and Minho dug his fingers into his shoulders, nails biting into Jonghyun’s skin even beneath his jacket. A thumb pressed into the side of his neck, just above his collar bone, choking him and making him pull back. Minho didn’t let go of his shoulders, face set hard and eyes burning.  
  
“About time you caught up,” he growled playfully before Jonghyun was nosing back in.  
  
-  
  
They were unstoppable together, Jonghyun was pretty damn sure.  
  
He aimed a kick right to one guy’s stomach, catching him dead on, and drove him back. A few feet off he saw Minho bring his arm down onto another guy’s back; the guy went down and Jonghyun felt a surge of pride spread through him. All around him his friends were kicking ass, Jonghyun was kicking ass, and they were all alive, life just rushing through them.  
  
When the last member of the other gang fell, Jonghyun standing over him triumphantly, a friendly arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. Jonghyun was tugged into Minho’s side, pulled close and familiar. He could feel their eyes, everyone from the other gang locked onto Minho and Jonghyun, watching in hesitant defeat.  
  
“Look at what we just did,” Minho murmured in his ear.  
  
“Look at what we just did  _together_ ,” Jonghyun whispered back.  
  
He tilted his head up just as Minho swooped down, their lips meeting in the middle. He could feel Minho’s smile through the kiss, could feel the way Minho’s mouth stretched happily against his lips. Jonghyun smiled back, pecked lightly at Minho’s lips. Around them, Taemin catcalled obnoxiously, Jinki and Kibum joining in with ridiculous commentary. Minho pulled back and that brilliant smile, with all his laugh lines and sloping eyes, was directed right at Jonghyun.  
Jonghyun threw a cheeky peace sign at the other gang as they left, Minho’s arm snug around his waist.  
  
They walked through the streets, Taemin running ahead, shouting and hollering his ass off as he laughed. The rest of them walked more casually, looking after Taemin with fond, exasperated smiles. (Because, hey, what could you do, right?) Jinki slung an arm around Kibum’s shoulder, dragged him close as Kibum complained about Jinki manhandling him. And Jonghyun and Minho hung back, just a little, Minho’s hand close and warm just next to Jonghyun’s.  
  
They all split off with promises to meet tomorrow night for drinks. Jonghyun raced Minho home, getting a late start after Minho took off without him because he was, as always, a dirty cheat. He caught up right at the front door, slammed Minho into the wood with a laugh as the door rattled behind them. And Jonghyun had just gotten his key in the lock when Minho’s hands came around his waist, stretched almost all the way around it just like he’d thought they would.  
  
Jonghyun was lifted into the air and swung around, his hands flying to Minho’s shoulders. He screamed happily, laughter pouring out of him as Minho kicked the door closed and twirled them around and around until he’d gotten so dizzy he lost balance and they tipped over. Jonghyun landed against Minho, letting out a surprised  _oomph_.  
  
Pushing Minho’s face into the carpet with a sly grin, he took off towards his room.  
  
“First one to the room wins!”  
  
“You’re a cheater!” Minho called after him, scrambling to his feet.  
  
“You’re one to talk!” Jonghyun shouted back.  
  
His hand was just inches from the door knob when he was grabbed again, feet coming off the ground. Minho tossed Jonghyun over his shoulder, ignoring the futile pounding of Jonghyun’s fists against his back. He threw Jonghyun onto the bed and Jonghyun snapped back into the air, flopping around like a dying fish.  
  
Minho stood impressively before him, lopsided grin settled firmly on his face. He had his fists on his hips, like some sort of proud mountain man or some other ridiculous thing – because Minho was absolutely ridiculous and Jonghyun fucking loved it. Minho ticked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to admit defeat, and Jonghyun pursed his lips.  
  
“I still win,” Jonghyun said brazenly, gesturing around the room. “I got into the room first.”  
  
“Oh you think you did, huh?” A wicked grin slid into place on his lips and Minho pounced.  
  
He landed on Jonghyun heavily, hands already coming up, poised to tickle. Jonghyun intercepted him, locked his fingers through Minho’s and tried to wrestle his arms out of the way. They rolled around on the bed like that, tussling and laughing and pushing at each other, until Minho’s arms gave way and he collapsed onto Jonghyun once more.  
  
(Jonghyun was about 300% sure Minho had given up on purpose but really, who was he to complain?)  
  
There was no denying how terrible of an idea it had been to wrestle on Minho’s bed in weather that, outside, no doubt exceeded a hundred degrees. Inside was another story – it must have been about thirty degrees hotter. It was official: they actually lived in hell.  
  
Minho was way too warm and just a tad too sweaty to be sidled up next to him, but Jonghyun figured that it would be best not to mention it. Undoubtedly, if he let any sort of complaint slip past his lips Minho would sit on him and rub his sweaty face all over Jonghyun until the end of time. That being the case, Jonghyun much preferred to have Minho folded into his side, hand tracing the lines on Jonghyun’s palm.  
  
“You know, there’s something I lied to you about,” Minho mentioned casually, pressing butterfly-light kisses against the curve of his jaw. It tickled.  
  
“Yeah? What’s that?” Jonghyun asked. He didn’t wait for a response, just tilted Minho’s head up towards his and planted a soft little kiss on the corner of his mouth.  
  
“I  _do_  like bedhead and ratty jeans,” Minho whispered, leaning his forehead against Jonghyun’s and breathing hot against his lips.  
  
It caught Jonghyun off guard for a moment before he let out a loud bark of laughter.  
  
“C’mere you,” he said, pulling Minho’s mouth towards his again.  
  
-  
  
“When the hell did you wear a skirt?” Kibum asked incredulously, staring at the photo for another beat before he passed it off to Taemin’s frantically motioning hands.  
  
“In high school, before I met any of you.” Jonghyun relaxed back into his seat. “We all looked terrible, though.”  
  
“I’ll say,” Taemin muttered, flicking the photo at Minho.  
  
“I dunno,” Minho drawled slowly, eyes roving over the wrinkled photo. He looked up at Jonghyun and grinned. “I kinda like the muscles.”  
  
“You would,” Jonghyun leered. He flexed a little, just for show. Minho blew him an obnoxious kiss and they were expressly ignored by everyone.  
  
“The baseball cap kinda ruins it,” Jinki commented after a moment, subversively sly.  
  
“Alright,” Taemin said, calling all attention to him. He sat up straighter. “Who else’s got any embarrassing pictures?”  
  
He was met with unenthusiastic shrugs all around.  
  
“Lame,” he grumbled, slouching back against the couch.  
  
Jonghyun ran a finger around the neck of his bottle, condensation catching on the grooves of his skin and streaking it around. Minho caught his eye, direct and secretive, and Jonghyun wiped his hand off on his pants. The back of his neck felt heated and he shook it off, letting out a heavy breath.  
  
The summer was slowly but surely starting to wind down, all the stores packed with deals for back to school supplies, the bright colors of the mid-year months beginning to give way to the warmer, deeper colors of fall.  
  
Which was bullshit because it was still about eight hundred degrees outside.  
  
It was kind of nice that things had slowed a little bit, though. It gave Jonghyun all the time he needed to think, time he felt like he’d somehow missed over the past few months. And it meant that each long, long day turned into more time for him to laze around, more time to kick back and hang with his friends. It meant more time to spend laying on the couch with Minho, a bowl of melting ice cream crammed between them.  
  
(All of which, Jonghyun might add, sounded pretty damn good.)  
  
“We should have one last toast,” Jinki declared, his bottle raised. “Before things start getting busy again.”  
  
And there was Lee Jinki, somehow once again syncing up to Jonghyun’s thoughts perfectly. He shook his head and raised his bottle alongside Jinki’s.  
  
“Hear, hear,” Minho said. He and Jinki shared a secretive little smile and Jonghyun rolled his eyes.  
  
As did Kibum, apparently because he then clicked his tongue and said, “you’re all losers.”  
  
Jonghyun noticed that he lifted his bottle anyway. Taemin knocked back half of his bottle before it joined the rest of theirs in the air.  
  
“To friends,” Jinki said, looking around at all of them. “And to getting the hell on with our lives.”  
  
Their bottles met with a series of loud clinks and then Jonghyun took a drink, tipping back his bottle and drinking heartily, because that was one toast he could definitely get behind.  
  
“Speaking of which,” Minho started, after his bottle had made its way back to the table. “What are we all doing after this?”  
  
“Back to school for me,” Jinki said breezily. He stretched his arms out over the back of the couch.  
  
“I’m going to help my parents out full time.” Kibum crossed his legs. “It shouldn’t be too hard, but it’ll be good if they have the help.”  
  
He was met with nods of understanding. Then Minho pitched in, “I think I’m gonna try to pick up extra shifts at the restaurant, make some more money.”  
  
“Nice,” Taemin commented, dragging out the word. When all eyes fell on him, his head lolled backwards, eyes closed and suspiciously silent.  
  
“Taemin’s thinking about taking some classes with me,” Jinki answered for him. When Taemin scowled in his direction, eyes still clenched tightly, Jinki smiled back brightly. Taemin wasn’t really mad at him, of course – it was almost impossible for any of them to get mad at Jinki.  
  
“What are you going to do, hyung?” Taemin asked a beat later, coincidentally and suddenly awake once more.  
  
All of the attention turned on Jonghyun. He shrugged, abashed. “I dunno.” He gestured around the room. “This?”  
  
No one mentioned that there was no way he could do “this” by himself.  
  
Jonghyun knew he had made it awkward; he could feel the uncertainty leak out into the room from all around him. He squirmed uncomfortably and tried to pretend that he really didn’t have any idea what he was going to do with his future.  
  
Luckily for all of them (but most especially, Jonghyun), Kibum broke up the sudden strain of tension by masterfully shuffling a deck of cards. Jonghyun’s head turned towards the sudden sound and he reached out a hand to sweep the cards that Kibum had dealt towards him. They played slapjack (there was not a hand in the room that was not red by the time they finished) and then everyone went their separate ways when it became clear that, one: they needed to eat, and two: Minho and Jonghyun had absolutely no food for them.  
  
All in all, it wasn’t too bad.  
  
Later that night, Jonghyun was lying in bed propped up against his pillow, computer in his lap when Minho peeked in through his open door.  
  
“Knock, knock,” Minho said quietly, lightly rapping his knuckles on the side of the door.  
  
“Come on in.” Jonghyun waved him over.  
  
Minho sat down on his bed, a hand seeming to come out automatically to settle on Jonghyun’s leg.  
  
“What’s up?”  
  
“I was thinking about what we were all talking about earlier,” Minho said, looking down at his hand. “About our plans and stuff.”  
  
Jonghyun wasn’t sure he liked where this was going.  
  
“And I was just wondering,” Minho continued. “…What do you really want to do, hyung?”  
  
Jonghyun’s face wrinkled in displeasure.  
  
“I already said it.” He became extremely interested in absolutely nothing on his computer screen.  
  
He felt the way the air became heavy after that, the way it became harder to raise his eyes and meet Minho’s inquisitive gaze. Minho gave Jonghyun a moment – just a moment – to gather himself before he spoke again.  
  
“Jonghyun.”  
  
“Minho, do we have to do this?” Jonghyun almost whined, feeling like a child.  
  
“Yes,” he said firmly.  
  
Jonghyun sighed, shoulders dropping like this was the heaviest burden he could face. He got serious, closed his laptop and set it on the bedside table. Then he turned to Minho, steeled himself, and put on his best game face.  
  
“Okay,” he nodded. “Hit me with your best shot.”  
  
Minho let out a chuckle. “It doesn’t have to be that serious, hyung,” he chastised playfully.  
  
“I dunno,” Jonghyun said skeptically, eyeing Minho. “You guys have all made it sound pretty serious.”  
  
He fixed Minho with a look that the other boy returned. Then Minho’s face softened and he squeezed Jonghyun’s leg, a tiny smile budding on his lips.  
  
“We just want you to be happy, hyung. We want you to be doing what  _you_  want to do.”  
  
Jonghyun licked his lips nervously and looked away, thumb rubbing against the inside of his finger.  
  
“What do you think that might be?”  
  
“You tell me.”  
  
Jonghyun thought. This was the first step that he needed to take – all he had to do was decide which direction he wanted to go. It sounded simple but, yes, Jonghyun was scared. (This was only the future, after all.) And then he remembered it, he remembered that, although this was the first step, it wasn’t the only one; he could keep changing his mind. Hell, he could have as many new beginnings as he wanted. No matter what, this wasn’t the end.  
  
And besides, he’d managed to work things out with Minho right? Anything after that should be easy.  
  
He bit his lip and looked back at Minho, finally decided. Minho looked back eagerly as Jonghyun admitted something that he’d thought about before, nodding enthusiastically as they discussed it. He hadn’t even done anything yet, but Jonghyun felt like a weight he hadn’t even known was there had been lifted off his chest. Minho’s eyes were telling him to take a chance.  
  
Jonghyun took that chance a few days later.  
  
-  
  
The temperature had dipped abruptly, signaling the proverbial end of summer. Jonghyun, for one, was sad to see it go. Yeah, he could do without the numbers rising into triple digits and waking up in a pool of his own sweat, but there was a freeness about the summer months that seemed to dissipate with the heat.  
  
(And he wouldn’t get to see Minho half-clothed  _quite_  as often. That kind of sucked, just a little.)  
  
So it was pretty fitting that Jonghyun was letting go of some of his summer worries as the air cooled and shrugging on his real life adult responsibilities alongside his jacket. He left the store, the bell above the door chiming merrily behind him. He looked to the side and caught Minho’s attention with a nod.  
  
Minho was leaning against the wall, afternoon sun blazing away behind him. He’d switched out his shorts for a pair of jeans, but his black t-shirt still clung to his chest in a reminiscence of summer days. Jonghyun’s eyes trailed up to Minho’s face, paused on his lips for half a second before he met Minho’s eyes.  
  
“How’d it go?” he asked, pushing off of the wall.  
  
Jonghyun shrugged, hands burying themselves in his pockets. “They said they’d let me know by Friday.”  
  
Minho grinned. “Cool.” He slung an arm around Jonghyun’s shoulders and they walked together.  
  
The summer had zipped by in a flurry of emotions and long, hot days, stretched itself long and thin even though it sped by in the end. Jonghyun took comfort in the fact that even though they wouldn’t have as much time, they’d still have time for each other. (Cheesy as fuck, but it was true.)  
  
Jinki started classes in a week and Taemin would be tagging along with him. Kibum and Minho were already working more and, with any luck, Jonghyun would be joining them in the ranks. He’d taken an interview at a music store downtown and he wasn’t really fussy about which position they were offering. He could either end up working the front of the store or teaching lessons – if they even hired him in the end. It would be nice, if they did. Jonghyun had always loved music.  
Minho picked up on his nervous silence.  
  
“You’re going to get it, you know.”  
  
“And how would you know that?” Jonghyun asked, tugging Minho’s arm more securely over his shoulders. He kept his hand wrapped around Minho’s.  
  
“Because I bet they loved you.”  
  
“Yeah?” Jonghyun smiled and bumped his hip against Minho’s blithely. He grinned up at Minho. “They’re not the only ones, huh?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Minho swooped down and pressed a chaste, dry kiss against Jonghyun’s cheek. He lightly knocked his forehead against Jonghyun’s temple and Jonghyun could practically feel his smile as Minho whispered in his ear, “I’m your boy.”  
  
Jonghyun smacked him and ran off, Minho’s laughter catching up behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> istg when i was writing this i felt like i had super powers. i would write something one day (like the dinosaurs or whatever) and the next day jonghyun would talk about it on blue night???? amazing.  
> also can i cry??? jonghyun mentioned that nirvana was/is a big influence on the music he makes and. do you know what? nevermind was on repeat the entire time i was writing this. i just. o-


End file.
